


Collision

by Kosho, SonyaBlackmane



Series: Collision [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Elder Scrolls Lore, Fantasy, Graphic Description, Headcanon, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Original Backstories, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Skyrim Spoilers, Spoilers, backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 108,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonyaBlackmane/pseuds/SonyaBlackmane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mira Ironhide is the Last Dragonborn, and hero of Skyrim. Through forces yet to be known to her, she has found herself in a new land, possibly an entirely new realm, one that is also in need of a hero. A land called Thedas, where demons fall from the sky. </p><p>But while she discovers her purpose in Thedas, there is also a land that is lost without her, erupting in chaos without their hero. Her greatest allies have been searching for her, and this quest may end up being the Dragonborn's greatest challenge yet.</p><p>6-20-17 Edit: This work will now be part of a series! (which means the last two chapters will be removed and added to part 2, coming soon!)</p><p>(I thought it imperative to mention that Mira speaks with an accent similar to Mjoll the Lioness, [for Dragon Age readers, it sounds similar to Josephine] There is a headcanon as to why, within the story.)</p><p>(characters and content related to Skyrim belong to Bethesda Softworks, and characters and content from Dragon Age are property of Bioware.)</p><p>Collision has a Tumblr blog! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/miraironhide</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> (As the hero of this story is from another realm entirely, 100% of this content is probably non canon lol)

6-20-17 Edit: I'm removing the Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus pairing from the tags because of the changes I'm making to the work, and their intimate chapter ("Settling A Debt") won't appear until Collision Part 2, and up to that chapter it's mostly a background relationship. But yes, there will still be a Bull/Dorian pairing in this series, as well as possibly a new side work added eventually, titled "Dream of Me".

Introduction:

Since this work will be a lengthy endeavor, with multiple romances (and a ton of canon and non-canon plot to sift through) I decided to clearly define the romantic chapters for readers who want to skim through specific romances (though I recommend reading the entire work, because some of it might not make any sense otherwise) Should anyone be reading for specific romances and/or smutty content. (due keep in mind there is untagged content hidden in other chapters, so again, I advise reading the entire work)

(Will be updated as needed)

For the Dragonborn/Brynjolf pairing:

Chapter 16-Dreams Too Good To Be True (smut)

Chapter 21-Long Lost Friends

Chapter 24-There's A Full Moon Out Tonight (first segment)

Chapter 30-The Dragons Are Bigger here (slightly nsfw)

Chapter 32-Out On The Coast (bottom segment)

For Vilkas/Cassandra Pentaghast pairing:

Chapter 22-First Impressions pt 1 (bottom segment)

Chapter 26-Fate, A Princess, And A Bottle Of Wine

Chapter 31-One World With Two Separate Places (slightly nsfw)

For Blackwall/Aela the Huntress pairing:

Chapter 22-First Impressions pt 1 (second segment)

Chapter 24-There's A Full Moon Out Tonight (bottom segment)

Chapter 25-Out Of Her Element

Chapter 32-Out On The Coast (second segment)

Chapter 35-And So The Winds Have Changed Once More (second segment)

Chapter 37-The Beast Within (so totally nsfw)

For Serana/Cullen Rutherford pairing:

Chapter 22-First Impressions pt 1 (first segment)

Chapter 28-Distracted

Chapter 33-While You Were Away (first segment) (cheezy)

Chapter 35-And So The Winds Have Changed Once More (sorta cheezy)

Chapter 38-The Heart Wants What It Wants (cheezy beyond belief)

For Josephine Montilyet/Sera pairing:

Chapter 23-First Impressions pt 2 (first segment)

Chapter 30-The Dragons Are Bigger Here (bc it sort of ties into the romance)

Chapter 33-While You Were Away (second segment)

Chapter 38-The Heart Wants What It Wants (again it pertains to the romance)

Chapter 42-Elven Arrows And Antivan Lace (smut...and arrows to the face!) (also, Cullen's good in bed, apparently)

For Hawke/Freja pairing:

Chapter 29-Hawke, The Hero of Kirkwall (second segment/or the whole thing really)

Chapter 33-While You Were Away (third segment)

Chapter 47-Hawk Feathers And A Bear Helmet (smut)

For Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus pairing:

Chapter 32-Out On The Coast (first segment)

Chapter 41-Amending the Situation (a bit at the end)

 (Note: Chapter 48 [Reasons To Stay] pertains to the Hawke/Freja, Aela/Blackwall, Vilkas/Cassandra, and Cullen/Serana pairings, and contains a bit of key information within the entire segment)


	2. Two Worlds Collide

     

     In a land of magic and mystery, where champions fought for the honor and pleasure of their gods, where the powers of Aetherius, the realm of the Divines, flowed through the land as fluidly as water and air, where the races of Men and Mer clashed for centuries in bloody battles over the lands they called home...the lands of Tamriel...there lived a hero.

     The Last Dragonborn.

     A hero with the body of a mortal, and the soul of a dragon. A being with the power to slay a dragon and absorb it's very essence and lifeforce...it's very soul, and claim it's knowledge and power. This hero had already saved one world from darkness, slaying the World Eater himself. The dragon called Alduin.

     It was atop the Throat of the World, the mountain that overlooked the province of Skyrim, that the Dragonborn sat, looking out over the mountains, valleys, and tundra within view. The land that she had conquered.

     Mira Ironhide had been born and raised in these lands. In a city farther south called Riften. Here, she had ended wars, freed opressed peoples, hunted vampires, slain dragons, and put the undead to rest once more. It was here she made many friends, and just as many foes, and knew every inch of Skyrim, for it was her heart. Her one true love, her home.

     But it wasn't here she would stay, for as she sat on the peek of the mountain, eyeing the world before her eyes, a strange thing occured. She knew not why. Could it be the work of Daedra that caused this magnificent green light to appear? It rather reminded her of Apocrypha, Herma-Mora's realm in Oblivion. Could it be he had somehow appeared? Through the power of the Black Book?

     Mira did not have time to wonder upon what magic occured, for all too quickly she was hurdled through a portal before her. No amount of magika, or even the power of her Thu'um, could prevent her from being sucked into it. Leaving behind everything she knew.

     For it was not the realm of Apocrypha she entered. No, this place was new. It was not like any land in Skyrim, or any of all Tamriel. Perhaps she wasn't even on Nirn anymore. Beyond Mundus? Out of the mortal plane itself?

     Was she dead?

     She guessed that if she were dead, she certainly wouldn't have awoken in chains. Her head ached, and so did her arm.

     It was dark and damp and wherever it was she ended up, it looked like a dungeon. A dungeon and chains? What crime had she committed?

     "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now?!" scathed a woman standing over her, brandishing a sword in her face. She was rather attractive, though she had boyishly short black hair, and scars on her face. A warrior, Mira guessed. Though not wearing any armor or sigil she recognized.

     "Who in Oblivion are you? And where am I?" Mira asked as she looked around her. She raised her hands, bound in shackles, to brush a blond strand of hair from her face, and then noticed why her arm hurt. She stared in surprise as she saw some sort of magic enveloped from her hand. Unlike anything she had ever seen. Her eyes widened.

     "The Conclave is destroyed and everyone is dead, except you!" said the warrior. By the Nine, what was a conclave?

     Mira stood up then. The chains were heavy, but they were no more able to hold back her strength than cloth bindings. The woman in front of her stepped back in shock. Mira stood several inches taller than her. It surprised her little, there were none taller than her back home save for the men of her race, or the Altmer. Of course, she was taller than most men and Mer too.

     "Speak plainly, woman!" Mira demanded. "What is this conclave you speak of?"

     The woman pointed her sword at her still, but another woman from behind her put a hand on her shoulder, stilling her. Quite stealthy this one was. Mira had no idea she was there. She wore a hood, and grey clothing resembling a priest's robe.

     "We need her Cassandra." said the woman with a voice as smooth as silks in Cyrodiil. She turned to Mira.

     "Do you...not remember what happened then?" she asked, lacing her arms together.

     "Apperently I don't. But will one of you tell me where I am!" Mira raised her voice once more.

     "You are in the Valley of Sacred Ashes." said the woman in the hood.

     "I have heard of no such place. I'm certainly no longer in Skyrim then." she pondered that.

     "Leliana, what is she talking about?" asked Cassandra.  The woman in the hood, Leliana, formed a curious expression. Then she stepped toward Mira, looking up at her, studying her face.

     "I had my suspicions when I saw her armor." said Leliana. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen...You are not from Thedas stranger...are you?"

      "No. I have never heard of this...Thedas that you speak of. I am from Tamriel."

     "Tamriel?" questioned Leliana, raising a brow.

     "Yes...You've never heard of it?" Mira in turn raised an interested brow at this woman. Cassandra, still standing there, sheathed her sword.

     "Regardless of who she is or where she claims she is from, that mark on her hand is connected to the breach, I'm sure of it. Go to the foreward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

     Leliana left the cell she had entered. Then it was Mira and this warrior once more.

     "A breach...and a rift, you say?" Mira cocked her head to the side.

     "It will be easier to explain if I show you." said Cassandra, looking very much like she didn't want to be around Mira. She stepped toward Mira, who stepped back. So Cassandra raised her hands, showing she meant no harm, then carefully moved to unlock the cuffs.

     They dropped to the floor and Mira followed Cassandra outside.

     Outside, a place quite unlike Skyrim, though covered in snow. Soldiers dressed in unfamiliar armor. Shiny metal, more resembling steel than any simple iron curiass. Decorated with an interesting seal. A sword with flames around it, and an eye in the hilt. It reminded her of the eye of Magnus.

     She looked up in the sky, and there she saw something green, and eerie. It looked like the same magic that brought her to this place...Then she looked around her once more. Frightened soldiers and villagers were eyeing her carefully. Terror written all over their faces. They thought she had caused this. She turned to Cassandra then, grabbing her shoulder. Cassandra jumped back in surprise.

     "This hole in the sky, is this the breach you spoke of? Where does it lead? Can it take me home?"

     "It...is an unholy portal." Cassandra said. "And demons have been pouring through it...and the mark on your hand is connected somehow. They think you are responsable for it." she gestured to the soldiers and common folk nearby watching.

     "Demons, you say?" Mira smiled a little. Demons she could handle. Her ancestors fought dremora. It had been Martin Septim to drive the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon back into his plane of Oblivion by becoming the Avatar of Akatosh.

     It was heroes like Tiber Septim, who had been Dragonborn before her, who led armies across Tamriel against the Aldmeri Dominion, founding the Empire, and the great Ysygramor, leader of the Five Hundred, who came from Atmora, and claimed the land of Skyrim for the Nords, and Martin Septim, that her bloodline stemmed from. As with all true sons and daughters of Skyrim.

     She huffed. Demons she could handle.

     "Give me my armor and my sword, and I'll fight these demons for you, woman." Mira said to Cassandra. A look of shock on her face with Mira's brazen words. "I'll keep these beasts from killing your people, and then you can help me find a way to get home." she brought a fist to her own chest, a sign that she pledged herself to this world's need.

      Cassandra still looked at Mira carefully. She wasn't sure if she could trust her. Mira didn't blame her. If what she said was true, and demons fell out if the sky in this place, and supposedly she had been there? Mira didn't blame her at all.

     "You have my word." she bowed a little. "If you don't believe me, feel free to stab me then." Mira said with a smile as she held out her hand to shake on her promise. Cassandra sighed, but nonetheless accepted, and nodded.

     Mira hoped to get home soon enough, but at least she would not be bored in this place it seemed. And it seemed this world was as desperate for a savior as her own world had been. Mira laughed in her head. This would be fun, she was sure.

     Demons and monsters were always fun.

     'Welcome to Thedas, Mira', she thought to herself.


	3. A Mark and a Rift

     Mira bellowed in hearty laughter as she stood, bound in the ancient Nordic armor of her ancestors, and watched as it took _two_ men to carry her greatsword. She grabbed it with one hand and one of the men almost fell backward when she snatched it. She threw it up behind her shoulder and lashed it to her back properly. And as she was now properly strapped and fitted, she turned to this Cassandra who had been staring at her in curiosity.

     "Shall we move then, shield maiden?" Mira asked with a smirk. "These demons of yours are waiting. And I highly doubt their sitting comfortably with mead and cheese while they wait."

     She trudged through the snow, and Cassandra followed closely. The woman led her up a hill, where ahead she could see an encampment. They just got through the gate when the bridge collapsed underneath of them, hit with some sort of green fire that barreled at them from the sky.

     They both tumbled down rock, and landed on the frozen water below with a thud...All too quickly something came up out of the ice. These...demons, Mira guessed. They were strange. She'd never seen anything like them. They resembled no daedra that she knew of. If she hadn't been before, she was now certain she was no longer in Skyrim. She smiled as she pulled out her sword and Cassandra charged forward at one of them, bashing it with her shield.

     Mira swung her sword and cut the creature clean in two. Then she stood and watched some more as Cassandra tangled with the other beast, leaning on her sword like a cane. She liked the way this woman fought. With ferocity and valor. Finally, she thrust her sword through it and it fell. And then turned to see Mira gawking at her.

     Cassandra looked down at the slain demon before Mira. "I...uh...see that you can handle yourself." she said, raising a brow, leaning her head to the side.

     "As can you. Your gods should be proud." Mira nodded.

     "Gods?" Cassandra asked. "You...really are not from this land...are you?"

     Mira shook her head. "I'm sure we will have plenty of time to discuss it when we get to this camp of yours." she said. Cassandra nodded.

     They pressed on, heading up the mountain, getting closer to this breach as well. Ahead, she could hear fighting, and more of these demons awaited. She could see a watchtower. Outside the gates there were soldiers fighting, getting cut down by the creatures. Mira quickly jumped down off the ledge, into the fight, charging the closest one. She swung her sword wide and long and beheaded it, its blood splattering her face.

     The soldiers jumped back in surprise, but not for long, as several more creatures advanced and they continued fighting. Mira ducked as one slashed at her, and she grinned from ear to ear. Then she whipped her sword around before shoving it into the beast, pushing on the hilt. Then she let out a grunt of satisfaction.

     Within minutes the demons were slain, and suddenly what looked like a rather pale wood elf ran up to her and grabbed her hand.

     "Quickly, before more come through!" he said.

      He pushed her hand towards the eerie green magic that lingered, and as if of its own accord, the magic on her hand caused the magic in front of her to dissipate. Well, that was...interesting.

     "So that's what this does." said Mira, quite interested.

     "Yes, I theorized that the magic that caused these rifts to appear could be connected to your mark. And it seems I was correct."

     Mira turned and looked over the elf with curiosity. She leaned in and stared at his ears.

     "You're prettier than elves in Skyrim." she said bluntly. He wrinkled his face in confusion.

     "Cassandra?" he asked her. She only gaped. Then there was laughter from behind her. She turned around to see a tiny man with an overly large crossbow.

     "Where the hell did you find this woman, Cassandra?" he asked as he smirked.

     "You, little man, what are you exactly?" she asked, genuinely curious of him. The smile left his face.

     "What, you've never met a dwarf? Where are you from, lady?" he asked and crossed his arms.

     "She's...not from here." Cassandra said tentatively.

     "Your ears aren't pointy." Mira stated bluntly. "That's interesting. In my world, all descendents of the Aldmer have pointy ears. Even Dwemer. Of course, in my world they are extinct and scholars still study their ruins to prove if they even ever existed..." she trailed off when she noticed the funny looks she recieved from this trio. She cleared her throat.

     " _Your_ world?" the elf asked.

     "I will explain later." said Cassandra. Then she motioned for them to head down the bank to the forward camp. The way along the path was blocked as demons rained from the sky before they arrived, leaving everything crumbling.

     The elf and dwarf were introduced as Varric and Solas as they walked.

     "I am Mira Ironhide." she nodded to them, a friendly gesture.

     "Ironhide...heh, I see how you got the name." said the dwarf named Varric as he chuckled.

     Ahead there were more creatures to be slayed, and another 'rift', as the magic was called. It was the thing that the demons spilled out of. A thing caused by the 'breach' in the sky, they said. But these people faught them well enough. Varric was handy with his crossbow, and Solas wielded an ice staff. So they had magic of that sort here too. Were there more mages like him too? She wondered.

     They opened the gates and inside were soldiers. They gaped at her as she walked past, following Cassandra. In front of her she could see the sluth, Leliana, and a man in a funny robe. They were arguing, and Cassandra quickly interfered. Mira watched the spectacle as they argued over her, whether or not she should still be in chains, held responsible for this place's misfortune. She snorted at that. Then they argued over whether to charge with forces into the temple where the breach was, or to take the mountain pass and search for a scout party gone missing.

     Not sure what to do, Cassandra turned to her.

     "What...would you suggest we do?" she asked Mira.

     "Well, you have an army behind you, and you have me." she stated firmly. "I say you charge. You want this blasted thing closed, and I want to go home. Let's see how it goes, shall we?" Mira grinned.

     "I agree with that." Cassandra nodded, still staring at her. Shor's bones, she didn't know what to think of Mira. She'd seen that look before many times in her homeland.

     ...This Temple of Sacred Ashes, as it was called, or what was left of it anyway, was supposedly where she crawled out of when soldiers found her and put her in chains. Many people had been inside, all of them dead. A shame. Such life wasted.

     And it was here where this breach was, a large rift that cascaded down, spewing green magic. There were strange red crystals coming out of the walls of the temple too. Mira had no idea what it was, but it couldn't be good. And there at the temple were soldiers fighting back the demons, holding them off best they could. A man was with them. A tall man, almost as tall as she, perhaps merely half an inch shorter. Cassandra introduced him as Cullen. He looked a well enough warrior. Could hold his own against the beasts.

     He stared blankly at her. Was he frightened of her? He looked her all over, and she imagined she might look quite intimidating to these people. She had horns coming out of her helm, had they never seen that before? Or was it they were wary because she crawled out of this place the sole survivor?

     Cullen left to assist the injured soldiers safely away, and Mira looked up at this gaping hole in their sky. Then took a breath, and started to walk down the steps, not wanting to further delay. Divines help her, she was sure this would be interesting.

     She, the elf, the dwarf, and the shield maiden clambered down a path to get to the base of the temple, hoping she could reach the rift and that the magic on her hand could close it. It was at the bottom that strange things began to happen. Magic twisted around them...perhaps warped what they were seeing. She could've sworn she saw herself and heard her own voice.

     "What is this?!" Cassandra demanded. Mira didn't have the answer.

     "Someone, help me!" called out a voice. It was an image of a woman, suspended in the air, wearing some sort of religious garment.

     "What's going on here?!" Mira heard herself say in the vision. Interesting.

     Then some sort of creature held out its hand, gesturing toward the image of Mira.

     "Kill her! Kill the intruder!" it said.

     "You _were_ there!...I don't understand. What are we seeing?" said Cassandra in confusion.

     "A vision of sorts?" Mira guessed. "One brought about by this magic? This breach?"

     "But I don't understand. What were you doing here?!" Cassandra demanded, growing wary of Mira. She threw her hands up defensively.

     "I did nothing!" she said wideyed. "The last thing that I remember I was sitting up on a mountain in Skyrim and a portal brought me here!" she sighed, as the woman still glared at her. "Now do you want me to help you close this thing or not?!"

     She turned away from Cassandra and stared at the rift.

     "Be wary." said the elf. "You must first open it to reclose it and seal it perminantly, and when you do, we have no idea what will come out."

     With that bit of caution considered, Cassandra motioned to archers that stood up on the walls to be ready, and Mira stuck out her hand as before, and allowed the magic to do its work. The rift got larger for a moment then something appeared before them.

     It was much larger than the other creatures they faught, and gave off a mighty roar. Mira drew her sword and chuckled. A fine fight this would be. The archers fired arrows, but it did nothing, and didn't pierce the demon's hide. It landed on the ground, shaking it, and it slashed at them, so Mira dodged. It used fierce magic.

     Mira tried to use magic of her own on it, but nothing happened. No Magika here. Interesting. Whatever way the elf was able to shoot ice at the demon, she hadn't a clue, but she guessed that the arcane forces here were different than Skyrim.

     The creature knocked them all down. It was too powerful.

     Mira stood up and stared the creature down. Then she planted one foot in front of her, and one behind, planting herself firm where she stood. The demon eyed her. She sucked in a deep breath.

     "Fus...Ro...Dah!!" she shouted at the demon. The force of her Thu'um knocked it back and off it's feet. The others stared in shock as the whirlwind of force had bellowed from her tongue, and she walked over to where the creature lay, and thrust her sword into it, before it could arise. Then she held up her hand again, using the magic of this 'mark' to close the rift, sending the demon through it and...

     ...She blacked out.


	4. Dragonborn Herald

     Mira woke with a start, heart pounding in her chest. Once again, she awoke having no idea where she was. She looked around. It was some sort of cottage, and she was lying on a bed. A fairly comfortable one too, much more comfortable then her bed at Honeyside Manor in Riften.

     She was still in Thedas then.

     She wasn't alone, for she saw a tiny figure in the doorway. Another elf, a female, who looked rather frightened of her. Mira put her hands up slowly.

     "It's alright, child. I'm not going to hurt you." she said to the elf as she trembled.

     "M-my lady Cassandra said it was imperative you go to the Chantry at once." said the elf.

     "Chantry? What is a Chantry? Is it your  temple?" Mira stood up, and the elf backed away cautiously. But she nodded.

     "At once, she said." the elf repeated. Then she fled the room, and Mira shook her head.

     She stared at her hand. The mark was still there. She wondered if the breach was still there too. This...demon world, on the other side even? What was it? It seemed to share alot of traits with planes of Oblivion. She was most certain it was the key to getting home...But it was reigning demons upon innocent people, and needed closing. That was more  imperative.

     Mira got up to leave this cottage and find this Chantry the elf spoke of, and find Cassandra...

     ...The Chantry rather resembled a Divine's temple, no doubt it was some sort of religious vestibule, devoted to their gods. Mira wondered what sort of gods they believed in.

     She heard arguing when she entered the large hall, coming from the door at the end. A familiar voice. The man in the funny robe, the one who was called Chancellor Rodrick. He was arguing about her. He still believed her responsible for all this.

     Mira flung the door open then. Helm in the crook of one arm, and sword in the other, and she stamped it down in front of her and held onto it like a walking stave as she glared at him.

     "Chain her! I want her taken to the capital at once to pay for her crimes!" he said angrily.

     "You will do no such thing, little man!" she bellowed. "I have tried to help you all! Have I not proven so?!"

     "Leave us." she heard Cassandra say to the guards behind Mira, who sheathed their swords and closed the doors behind them.

     "The breach in the sky is still open, Seeker!" said Rodrick to Cassandra. "For all we know she intended it that way!"

     "It's stopped growing, and for now, it is stable." stated Cassandra. "But it is still a threat, and we still need her!" she pointed to Mira.

     "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker." his face wrinkled in his annoyance. Cassandra eyed him shrudely.

     "If that breach is still open, then it seems I am still needed, as she said. So I'm not leaving." affirmed Mira.

     "That is for the Most Holy to determine! We must elect a new Divine, and have their say on the matter!" Rodrick pressed.

     Elect a new Divine? A new god or diety of sorts?...Wait, no. That was what they called the woman who died at the conclave. Or, they assumed she was dead. No one knew for sure. In fact, Mira wasn't sure of anything at the moment accept that there were still demons afoot.

     Leliana had been standing there, and finally spoke up.

     "And neglect the threat outside our door?" she asked him. "With or without a Divine we must act now, Chancellor. It cannot wait."

     "And what makes you think you have the authority on this matter?!" he asked.

     "This!" barked Cassandra, as she slammed a large tome down on the table in front of her.

     "The writ of the Divine granting us the acting authority!" she said. "I'm hearby declaring the Inquisition reborn!"

     "This is blasphemy!" raged Rodrick before storming out of the room.

     The three of them, Mira, Cassandra, and Leliana, were silent for a moment, considering the events that just occured.

     "Does he not care about demons falling out of the sky?" asked Mira. "Is he daft?"

     The sheild maiden sighed.

     "While some still think you guilty, there are others who believe you are the Herald of Andraste, sent by the Maker in our time of need. The very idea of that is seen as heresy to those of the Chantry."

     Mira raised a brow. "Who is Andraste?"

     The two if them gaped at her.

     "I forget...forgive me. You have claimed to not be from Thedas, perhaps an entirely different realm even. You do not know our beliefs." Cassandra said. "She is the bride of the Maker. She gave her life in service to him. She is one we revere. There are those that spread rumor that it was she who pulled you from the ashes at the Temple."

     "I see. So, shield maiden, what do you believe? Do you think I am sent by your god, and that he gave me this magic?...Or do you think me guilty of destroying your temple still?" Mira brimmed with curiosity.

     "I...do not know yet." said Cassandra. "But I cannot pretend you weren't exactly what we needed, when we needed it...Perhaps the Maker did send you to us in our darkest hour. We have yet to see."

     Mira chuckled. "Perhaps...and perhaps if not your god, perhaps it was one of mine who sent me. Your...Inquisition, you say? You move to close the breach then?"

     "We do." Leliana chimed, as she eyed Mira curiously. She set her horned helm on the table.

     "Sounds good to me." she said to them.

     "So...you _willingly_  join us then? And to help us put a stop to all this?" Leliana asked as she folded her arms. Mira nodded.

     ...It was sometime later that Mira was introduced to the would be advisors to the Inquisition, as Cassandra had called it, a military force given authority to oversee this matter dealt with. Which would prove difficult she and Leliana made note of. As they had so few numbers and now no Chantry support. So Leliana sent word with her ravens to parts all over to anyone who would listen to her words and lend to their cause.

     And so there she stood, before Cullen, the fairhaired fellow who looked quite intrigued by her, Lady Josephine, a rather pretty diplomat, who reminded Mira of the Imperials she knew back home, and Leliana of course. They would aid her and Cassandra in anyway they could, pooling whatever resources they could to deal with the demons and chaos plaguing them.

     "Alright, I have to know." said Cullen suddenly. "Are the rumors true?" he asked Mira.

     "What rumors?" Josephine asked him. He scratched his chin. Then he smiled tentatively.

     "There is a rumor that our 'Herald' here was seen...shouting at the pride demon at the temple." he said. "And her voice...knocked the demon off his feet."

     Josephine snorted, then bashfully tried to hide her laughter.

     "No, it is true Lady Josephine." spoke Cassandra, most serious. "I saw it."

     "I saw it too." said Leliana. She turned to Mira. "How did you do that? I've never seen such magic... _Are_ you a mage?"

     "No." she chuckled. "I can do magic, yes. But I'm no master of the arcane arts, I'm afraid. And here, there is no Magika to enflame, or freeze as your mage elf does. In my world-" she cleared her throat. "Where I hail from, Magika is the very essense of Magnus himself, the God who gave magic to the mortal realm. It flows everywhere, within everything one can see. It's there just as the air you breathe. Not all can use it. Some do not have the mind nor the ears to listen to it's teaching. But I can. A little...However that...was not mere magic."

     "I uh...have no idea what you are talking about." Cullen wrinkled a brow and rubbed his neck, admittedly in an attractive way. Mira laughed.

     "I am Dragonborn." she said proudly. All four of them gaped at her...so she took a breath...and whispered.

     "Feim..Zii...Gron!"

     Her Thu'um beckoned, and she smiled a little as they stepped back in shock as she became Ethereal. A form of a ghost or spectre of sorts she appeared to them, a form in which she could not be harmed, and do no harm. A useful little charm the dragons created. Cassandra looked like she wanted to draw her sword, and Josephine gasped, dropping her quill and parchment.

     "The Last Dragonborn, to be exact. This is the Way of the Voice. This is the Thu'um." she said to them.

     "Thoom?" asked Cassandra. "What language is that?"

     "It is Dragon Tongue, the language of Dov. Of dragons. Taught to mankind by the Goddess Kynereth. Those that possess the ability can shape the words into power...the Voice of the winged serpants themselves. There are some among my people that teach it. The Greybeards, we call them. Though few can master the Way of the Voice." Mira gleamed as she spoke.

     "But you said you were the 'last'. Are you the last of your race?" asked Cullen.

     Mira shook her head. "No. But I am unigue. There were those before me over the centuries that posessed the Dragonblood and took the mantle of Dragonborn. We are called the ultimate slayers of dragons, for only we possess the ability to perminantly kill them by devouring their soul."

     "Devour their soul?" laughed Leliana. "Quite far fetched...To even tangle with a dragon is a serious matter."

     "I can breathe fire too...if you'd like to see." Mira jeered.

     Josephine shook her head. "No, I'd rather take your word for it." she said. Mira chuckled.

     "I am called the last for it was prophesied that the World Eater, the dragon Alduin, first born of Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, would return. And with his return, so would a Dragonborn appear in the turning of the age to slay him. We were bound together in spirit across time itself, one the adversary of the other. As long as he existed, so would a Dragonborn. His equal and opposite force. For he could devour the souls of mortal men, whereas I his brethren."

     "Where is this Alduin now?" Cassandra asked.

     "I traveled to Sovngarde, the realm of my forefathers, to it's great hall of heroes...and slayed him." she leaned against her greatsword.

     "You mean to say..." Cassandra leaned her head to the side.

     "I traveled to the afterlife to kill him." Mira stated. "So you see, shield maiden, I have already been the hero of one place. And I wonder. Will I now be the...'Herald' of another?" she raised a brow.

     "This is a very interesting tale you tell, Miss...Ironhide." Josephine mused.

     "And you don't believe a word of it, do you?" Mira smirked. "And...none of this formal business. Call me Mira."

     Josephine blushed.


	5. Dwarves, Elves, and Dragons in Human Form

     The Last Dragonborn left the Inquisition's advisors to their planning and wandered outside into the sunshine to explore Haven, as it was called. It seemed there was more going on in this world than just demons falling out of the sky. There was war brewing. Between mages that rebelled against the Chantry and soldiers called Templars that hunted them down. This would prove more difficult for them to gain allies to close the breach and keep the monsters at bay. But not something Mira was unfamiliar with. In her own land, she had been a general for a man named Ulfric, she had told them, and helped put an end to one war already.

     They could hardly believe that she was someone who possessed the spirit and power of dragons, let alone could they believe she could be from another realm. Such a thing was inconceivable. But Cullen and Leliana said they had heard stranger tales, and seen strange things themselves. Josephine was simply grateful that Mira was on their side, despite some still accusing her of being responsible for the breach, and being a criminal. Mira had assured them all that if she were truly responsible for all this she would not be so eager to help them put a stop to it. They accepted, and whether they truly believed that or not, only time would tell.

     But what mattered more was that they were just as bent as she on figuring out this mess. So that was promising.

     She couldn't do it alone. The magic on her hand, though it was able to stabilize the breach and stop it from growing larger, it wasn't enough to close it. They needed more power. More magic. Which was why Josephine suggested they seek these rebellious mages for assistance. But Cullen on the other hand, who used to be a Templar himself before joining Cassandra and her Inquisition, swore that Templars could be just as useful to them. They had abilities of their own, trained in the ways of combating mages. They did this through the substance they consumed called Lyrium. And Cullen believed they could be just as helpful to their cause as any mage.

     Mira thought all this was daft. She didn't understand why these two factions could not come to a truce for the sake of the greater problem before them. Even in Skyrim, as bloodthirsty as her country had been, both sides of the war at least agreed to stay out of her way while she dealt with the dragon threat, once it was made clear that neither was responsable for dragons returning. They even agreed to a truce so that she could trap the dragon Odaviing in Dragonsreach castle to convince him to take her to Skaldafn, to the portal that lead to Sovengarde. Though not before both Ulfric and the general of the Imperial legion languished over land and holdings in Skyrim.

     But Cassandra had warned of how different things were in Thedas.  How different the people were. It would not be so easy a task to conveine another Conclave, with Divine Justinia either missing or dead, and the Chantry in disarray and disinclined to help them. And if it were not Mira responsable for the explosion, someone still was, and it could very well be either mages or Templars, whoever wanted more to disrupt the peace the Divine saught. Or it could be someone else entirely. And it was imperative that they figure out who that was.

     With all of this jumbled inside Mira's head, she wandered around the village in thought. The next day they would go to a place called the Hinterlands, to speak to Mother Giselle, a member of the Chantry who might be inclined to help them, who wanted to speak to Mira in person.

     Mira saw the dwarf, standing near a camp fire, staring at the sky. The breach could still be seen even from the safe distance of Haven. It was like a beacon in the sky to everyone, making them all fearful and wary. Varric saw her walk over,  and instantly started shaking his head and chuckling, for whatever reason she didn't know.

     "The...Harald of Andraste." he smirked.

     "That's what people are calling me." Mira raised a brow. "Some believe I'm chosen by their god to save them." she crossed her arms. "What of you, little man? What do you believe happened?"

     Varric shook his head and crossed his arms. "Okay lady, you have got to stop with that 'little man' shit." he said tursly.

     "Apologies, Varric. I meant no offense." she said abashedly. "You _are_ smaller than me, after all."

     "Yeah, but do you have to point it out?" he asked, a look of discomfort on his face.

     "Sometimes I speak without thinking...You wield that crossbow of yours well enough. You fight well, regardless of size, and that is something to admire." she smiled a little and nodded, a sign of her approval of him.

     He softened a bit. "Admire, huh? Your people take a great deal of pride in how well someone fights? Warrior society then?"

     "Yes. Though not all of us are true warriors. There are those among my people who choose to judge by one's race or homeland...or size. But only those of weak mind. Those too ignorant to recognise good people by their deeds. And it is those kinds of people who are most troublesome at times." Mira stared at the sky for a moment, as she mused upon the ignorance of her race, but looked back when Varric spoke.

     "You uh...fight pretty well too, you know. You don't seem to be afraid of much...when it seems there's quite a bit going on these days to make people afraid...the breach in the sky? Demons falling through it?...All those people at the Conclave..." he trailed off, disturbed by the thought. Hundreds of people had died. Mira did not smile then. This was no laughing matter.

     She took him by quite the surprise when she knelt in front of him and clasped his shoulders.

     "I am sorry, my friend, for what happened. I will do my part to avenge them and find those responsable." she affirmed. All he could do was nod, still surprised by her. She patted his shoulder and stood up again to watch the sky with him again. It was several minutes of silence before the dwarf spoke.

     "So...is it true? The rumors. You really are...from a different realm then?" he asked. Mira chuckled.

     "It is. Though only you can choose whether or not you believe that true, or believe me a mad woman." she said.

     "Yeah I guess so. You're...certainly different." Varric shook his head as he smiled.

     "Don't worry, I'm different in my own land too." she smiled. "There's no one else quite like me, I'm afraid."

     "Now _that_...I definitely believe." said Varric. They both laughed...

     ...Mira found she was very much interested in learning of this place. The people here were so different. Besides Varric, there were others she spoke to that day. Most were frightened of her, or bowed in her presence as their chosen savior, but there was one among them, up by the Chantry who did neither.

     The mage elf, Solas, turned when she approached and nodded a little in greeting, a curious smirk forming at his lips.

     "The Chosen of Andraste, the blessed hero sent to save us all." he greeted. Mira shook her head and chuckled.

     "Well I'm chosen of something, that much is certain." she said. "Though I care little by whom I was chosen. Only that I'm here."

     "A logical response, I suppose." the elf mused. "But you _do_ believe it was no accident that you're here then?"

     "I _know_ it was no accident." she stated. "Whatever forces brought me here from my world, they brought me here for a reason."

     "And there's that word again. _Your_ world...Where exactly is it you believe you are from?" Mira could tell he was not making fun of her. Perhaps he even believed her. He was a mage and had no doubt seen many curious and wonderous things. Perhaps it didn't seem that odd to him. Afterall, demons from another realm plagued them, so why not a person, sent from another realm to save them?

     "A place called Tamriel. Specifically, the province of Skyrim within it...on the planet Nirn, if you want to get technical with the thing." Solas' brow raised, and once again Mira had to chuckle.

     "I have never heard of this 'planet Nirn' you refer to...perhaps we have a different name for it? It's not entirely impossible for other planets of this realm to be inhabited of course." Solas relayed to her.

     "I am not from this realm either." she stated. "Of that I am certain. There is no Magika here. I believe I am far beyond the reaches of Aetherius here where I stand." she sighed at his confused expression. "Aetherius. Of which inside everything is believed to be contained. The force of energy that comprises the Aurbis, the universe. At least, my people believe so. The immortal plane, of which my gods reside, encasing everything known to us. The planes of Oblivion, the realm of Sovengarde, the afterlife in which my brethen dwell in spirit for eternity...and even Mundus, the mortal plane, the universe that we know. And all of it is touched by the gods. Whether physically, or in spirit. And if I cannot use magic here, then I am certainly far from Magnus' touch, and certainly far from Aetherius."

     "Magnus...is he your god?" Solas asked ever so curious.

     "He is one, yes. It is believed that he granted mortals their magic, that he _is_ magic. And without the arcane force of his Magika I do not...freeze things with ice as you do." Mira leaned her head to the side. "How does magic work here?"

     Solas deflected her question. "So you're saying you're a mage? But you have no ability here, and that leads you to believe you are in another realm far from your gods?" Mira could not tell if that was earnest, or if his question was mocking her. It didn't matter, for he asked another. "How were you able to cast a spell on the pride demon then?"

     "A reasonable question. One I'm getting tired of explaining." she relented. She leaned against the stone wall. "I'm more interested in dicussing this world. Your gods and your magic. How do mages cast spells in this realm, elf?"

     "...You're seriously asking that?" he leaned his shining bald head to the side. "Only children know so little of the Fade and would ask such questions. I'm afraid I'm not used to someone of your...ignorance."

     "Well if I am not from this world, why should it surprise you?" she smirked. "It's because of my ignorance that I ask. If I am to be useful in this realm, would I not want to know how it works?" she asked. He couldn't argue with that, so he humored her and answered her question.

     "Those born with the ability draw their power from the Fade. Much like this realm of Aetherius you speak of, it is an immortal plane beyond this one. Most live in fear of it, for they have little understanding of it, beyond what you see with the breach. Beyond corrupt spirits, demons if you will, and in its raw form it will tear Thedas apart. Though in reality it is far more complicated, I'm afraid."

     Mira soaked in his words.

     "But a complication not beyond my comprehension." stated Mira. "The very same can be said about things in my realm, Solas."

     Solas smiled a little. "That's commendable." he said. "So...about your voice magic then...If you say there is no magika here, and you are no mage...and it's not the Fade...then what is it?"

     Mira sighed and smirked at him. "To put it simply, it is an inborn ability I possess, that is as natural as breathing itself, to someone like me. Some mortals can be taught the Voice, but none could ever master it like I have. It is the language of dragons, and is as common to them as speaking to you. And it is my dragonblood that allows me to use it so fluently. It is through my spirit, not Magika, that I use this power."

     "Dragonblood?...An interesting term. A euphemism?" Solas asked.

     "No. It is direct. I am Dragonborn. They say I have the body of a mortal, and the soul of a dragon, for I absorb the souls of other dragons upon slaying them." Mira explained. Solas eyed her with curiosity.

     "...A dragon in human form then? A spell cast upon you?" Solas brimmed with anticipation at her answer as his eyes sparkled in interest. It was funny hearing him put it that way. If it were true, she imagined that sounded frightening. By Talos, she had no idea what these people thought of dragons in this world. And had no idea of their dragons either. If they were even children of Akatosh, or something different entirely. They existed here though, for no one told her different. But she put the thought aside.

     "Now _that_...in reality is a bit more complicated." she laughed as she repeated his phrasing. "But if you'd like to believe that than...yes. I suppose to you, that is exactly how it seems."

     "That is...very interesting." he said then.

     Yes. Very interesting indeed.


	6. The Nightingales

     Far away from Thedas, in the land called Skyrim, outside it's city called Riften, there was a cave.

     It was tucked away in the woods, off the beaten path, invisible to the naked eye. It was Nightingale hall. None knew of it's existance save for chosen few, and most throughout Skyrim thought it's inhabitants were legend.

     But much like the legends of dragons in Skyrim, it seemed the Nightingales were more truth than legend.

     There were always three. Three to take up the mantle and serve Nocturnal by guarding her temples. Lady Luck, she was called. The Lady in the Shadows. The benevolent Daedra that ruled her plane of Oblivion called the Evergloam. But there was only one Nightingale that sat in her hall. The Dunmer named Karliah, who sat quietly, listening.

     Her Mistress called to her. She wished to speak to her and so she followed, getting up from her chair and walking through the damp and dark hallway leading to the cistern. Then she moved to stand at the central pier, as the soft glow of Nocturnal brightened the room and the Daedra spoke.

     "I am glad Karliah that you have repaid your debt to me, and that my key is returned." said the voice.

     "It was my honor, my lady." Karliah bowed. Her voice soft, in reverence to the one she served.

     "I am, however disturbed. Forces beyond us are plotting...One of my children is missing." said Nocturnal sternly.

     "My lady, I do not understand." admitted Karliah, expecting Nocturnal's wrath at her insolence. But there was none. Only small explanation.

     "Seek your brother Nightingale, Karliah. Tell him your sister is missing from this world." she boomed. "Then seek the allies of the Dragonborn and bring her back to us."

     Karliah bowed quickly and fled the room as the spectral form of Nocturnal dissipated. Mira was missing? From this world? By the Shadows, that had ill meaning. But she hadn't said she was dead however, that gave Karliah comfort.

     She donned the proper attire, removing her reverent black Nightingale garb, and donned her Thieves Guild armor. Then she left the hall in haste, leaving no trace of her exit for anyone to notice, and crept through the shadows in the night.

     Below the city of Riften was the Ratway, they called it. The subterranean alleys and sewers. Down there a pub called the Ragged Flagon where members of the Thieves Guild proudly sat, drinking and talking in the dim light.

     It was there that Karliah found Brynjolf, sitting at the bar. She quickly walked over to him. He saw her, but didn't get up. His Nordic red hair was a mess and he nursed his cup of mead like a downtrodden dog.

     "I must speak with you Brynjolf." she said urgently.

     "Can't it wait, lass?" he asked. He looked irratated. "Grab a drink."

     "It's about Mira." she said in a hushed tone. Brynjolf looked up then. Begrudgingly he got up from his stool and motioned for her to join him in the Flagon's cistern, of which they went to through the hidden panel in the pantry. It was the Guild's secret meeting place, of which only they had access to.

     Karliah followed him over to the Master's desk, and he leaned on it as she spoke to him.

     "Mira is gone." she said. He snorted.

     "That is obvious, isn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Can you guess by the empty desk and empty seat?" his words sarcastic, and his eyes full of disappointment.

     Karliah was well aware that their Guild master and sister in crime had been gone from Riften for several months. Not only was she their comrade, but she had other duties that were just as important. She had taken up arms with Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm, and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, and with him fought the empire. She had also studied at the Mages college in Winterhold before that, and...most importantly, Mira was the Dragonborn. The hero of legend sent to defeat the dragons, supposedly. Well, just like the dragons, and Nightingales, it was more truth than legend. So her duties to the Guild were secondary. Which was perfectly fine as long as their luck held out and coin kept flowing. But it was not these reasons Karliah referred to.

     "No. Gone, as in gone from this world, Brynjolf." she stated. He stood up strait.

     "Gone from this world? You mean she's..." his expression changed to fear.

     "No, she's not dead. As far as I know. But gone. That was all our Lady would say." she could not hide the urgency in her tone.

     Brynjolf looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening, then he leaned in close to speak.

     "I told you, lass, that I was done with that Nocturnal business. Once I had my vengeance on Mercer Frey I swore I'd never wear that armor again, or go back to that temple. You keep that mess to yourself, Karliah. I want nothing to do with it." his voice was angered.

     "It doesn't matter. You took the oath. And what matters more is what happened to Mira." Karliah said snidely, knowing full well how he felt about the Guild Master. He took the bait.

     "Fine." he smarted. "What exactly did Lady Luck have to say?" he asked cynically.

     "That she is gone, and you and I are to seek her allies to find her." she said.

     "That's it?" Brynjolf raised a brow. "Doesn't leave us much to go on. And you didn't think to ask for details?"

     "I wasn't concerned with details. More concerned with obeying her instruction." she stated. "But it's not that hard to piece together. If she is 'gone from this world' but not dead, it's likely that magic is the culprit. And seek her allies? She knows mages in Winterhold. Perhaps they have information on her whereabouts."

     "You have a point." Brynjolf relented. "But I need more information than that...I'll go to the Hall then, and ask her myself." he grumbled. Karliah smirked.

     He meant Nightingale hall, to be exact. And it seemed that his affection for their fellow Nightingale prevailed over his superstitions.

     ...He reluctantly entered the hall with Karliah and donned the appropriate attire. Then, hood and mask pulled over his face, he entered the cistern with her, and stood as Karliah called upon Nocturnal, but there was no answer. That was odd.

     Brynjolf sighed. "So what now then."

     "I don't know." Karliah admitted. Then she thought about it. "It seems we must find Mira first, before we have any answers."

     "That doesn't sound too assuring, Karliah." he mumbled. "In fact, this whole business isn't too assuring."

     He threw his hands up in angst then walked out of the cistern.

     "Where are you going?" she asked him.

     "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to Winterhold. Are you coming or not?" he turned and left and Karliah hurriedly followed after...

     ...It was several days journey to the north, where the crumbled town of Winterhold sat in the mountains. It got it's name earnestly, for that far north in Skyrim there was nothing but snow. Everything was covered white, except for the two strangers on horseback, donned in black, hoods over their faces. They rode into town and the guards eyed them suspiciously.

     The Nightingales rode up to the gates of the college, which none in the town would go near, suspicious of the magic used frivolously within. The Altmer at the gate was wary of the two strangers, but when they mentioned Mira Ironhide, she let them pass.

     They dismounted at walked across the narrow stone bridge that led to the keep and walked inside. Karliah would've prefered it to be night, would prefer sneaking in, but that mattered little at the moment. She headed strait for the Hall of Countenance, where the headmasters' quarters were. Then she searched for the Bosmer she knew, named Enthir.

     He had helped her before, being an old and dear friend, and talented fence. He was the only one who knew her true identity, rather by accident when he helped her uncover the truth of the previous Guild Master's murder. Gallus' murder. The death of her love. The man who, along with Mercer Frey, served Nocturnal with her until his death, by Mercer's own hand.

     "Karliah!" said Enthir as she entered his quarters and removed her mask. "I never thought I'd see you here." they clasped and shook hands, and then he turned to the other masked figure standing in the doorway. "Who's your friend?" he asked. Brynjolf stood silently, arms folded.

     "He is a fellow Nightingale, Enthir. He and I seek Mira's whereabouts." said Karliah. The elf's eyes widened.

     "You mean...you haven't heard?" he asked. She shook her head, curious of his information.

     "Well, after she left the College, she joined up with the Companions in Whiterun...you know, that little warrior guild at Jarvaskr. I guess they'd been eyeing her for some time as a prospect. That's the last I heard of her. I assumed she either joined up with them, or turned them down and headed back to Riften." he shook his head. "I thought for sure she was back in Riften. I mean, she turned down an offer to become Archmage, flat. She had no interest in the title."

     "I thought she joined the Stormcloaks." said Karliah. Enthir chuckled.

     "She did. It seems your Guild Master dipped her hands all over." he crossed his arms and looked at them both. "So...if you thought she joined the army, why look for her here?" he asked.

     Karliah sighed. "It's hard to explain but...we have reason to believe that Mira went missing. As in she's gone from Skyrim and magic might be to blame. So I assumed you would know something."

     Enthir shook his head. "Karliah, you know that if anything happened to Mira while she was here, you would be the first person to know." Karliah nodded at his words. "But as far as I know, she just left. No magic involved. In fact, she proved she had quite the knack for magic. I highly doubt someone could curse her very easily. She proved that when she stopped our Thalmor visitor from almost destroying the college with very dangerous magic."

     Karliah considered silently what Enthir had to say. It wasn't that unbelievable. Mira despised the Thalmor. And to find one using dangerous magic of sorts? She would do whatever she could to stop it. And she tended to be of very heroic nature. Going to great lengths for the safety of others. Even when she first joined the Guild, according to Brynjolf, she very much honored their code, never killing unless absolutely necessary. And when Karliah and Brynjolf wanted to avenge Gallus and kill Mercer, Mira attested. It took convincing on Brynjolf's part that it was best for the Guild.

     Whatever reason Mira joined the Companions, Karliah was certain it was out of heroism. It was very likely at least. But her acts of kindness and heroics would have to wait. Nocturnal never called upon her servants unless it was dire. The Mistress never cared for mortal affairs beyond her own needs. Whatever reason she decided to inform Karliah of her disappearance, and order her to seek her out, it had to be imperative.

     "So what do you want to do, lass?" asked Brynjolf, as they were on their horses again, putting distance between themselves and Winterhold.

     "We must seek the Companions. If what Enthir said is true, they are the last to know of where Mira went." she said to him.

     "Yes, but could those warriors have the ability to 'banish' Mira from the world somehow?" Karliah could almost hear Brynjolf's brow furrowing behind his mask.

     "Probably not. But maybe they know who would. Or why." she replied.

     "You know...We're closer to Windhelm. We could speak to the Jarl." Karliah grumbled at his suggestion.

     "Not going to happen." she said firmly.

     "But he can Shout, like Mira. Supposedly he Shouted King Torygg to death up in Solitude...What if it has something to do with that?" Brynjolf reared his horse to a stop, so Karliah did as well.

     "I am not going anywhere near Windhelm!" she snapped. "Do you know what they do to Dark Elves in Windhelm? How they treat them, Brynjolf?!" she asked angrily. "The man's a racist troll. Even Mira told me that the only reason she planned on joining him was because she wanted to see an end to the empire's hold in Skyrim!"

     "Fine. I have a suggestion then. I'll go to Windhelm and spy on the Jarl, and you go to Whiterun...We'll be closer to an answer that way as well...Though I don't like going to that savage city either, Karliah." Brynjolf admitted. It comforted her. And he was right.

     The Nightingales bade farewell. They agreed to meet in Ivarstead in two days time, hopefully giving them both enough time to seek answers, and find their lost Nightingale sister. Karliah hoped they found something. She had a very bad feeling.

     Not just because Nocturnal summoned her...but to think...what exactly could happen to Skyrim if it had truly lost it's hero? What chaos was Nocturnal forseeing for the world without the Dragonborn?

     Karliah could only silently hope...and pray.


	7. The Jarl of Windhelm

     Curse Karliah, Brynjolf thought. Curse her to pieces. Yet again, he found himself sucked into magic and mysticism and religious junk, and he hated it. Damned little Daedra worshipper.

     It wasn't like he cared too much what the Divines thought either. He just wasn't religious. He had one thing, and one thing only on his mind for most of his adult life, and that was the betterment of the Guild. It wasn't Lady Luck that guided his hands or filled his pockets, he believed, unlike Karliah. But his own craft and intelligence that guided him. He never would've joined Karliah's little cult if he had thought he could take down Mercer Frey on his own.

     But now it wasn't killing Mercer Frey that fueled his fire. It was Mira. The very second that Karliah had mentioned her, his heart leapt in his chest.

     She had been quite the crafty thief. Perhaps even craftier than Gallus himself, and Brynjolf had heard quite the tales of him in his youth. But Mira? Mira made a clean break into Goldenglow Estate, when not even Vex, their top infiltrator, could get into it. He laughed at how much that upset poor Vex. She wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.

     But it wasn't her skills in the Guild that captured his attention. He could never deny he had feelings for her, but there was always something more important to be had. There was always some business to be done. And when she left, she promised to be back soon but...she never came back. And he regretted not taking the chance when he had it to tell her how he felt. Especially now.

     Windhelm seemed a cold and unforgiving place. The snow always fell there, and it was much less comforting than the summer warmth in the south. Brynjolf sighed as he rode up to the stone city and dismounted.

     This place was far from what it had been centuries ago. The original capital of Skyrim, it had been, before Solitude. It was said that Windhelm was built by Ysygramor, the original conqueror of Skyrim. The city had withstood the ages, but only by a miracle. It was in ruin now. And it's people just as unforgiving.

     But it didn't mean they didn't have pockets full of gold. Brynjolf could hear it jingling as they trudged by. Even the guards were weighted with septims. Apparently winning a war made them all quite a bit of coin to spend. But for once, Brynjolf ignored it, and instead concerned himself with other things.

     He met with a fence there at the market. Mira had made contact with her some months ago, taking care of some business for the Guild. An Altmer named Niranye who sold an assortment of legal goods to travelers, but also happily bought some illegal ones from Mira. She had nothing of note to say about Mira. Only that she saw her several weeks ago and traded some lovely gems from her for potions.

     He bought a room at Candlehearth hall. There was a tavern maid there who eyed him, and he ignored her. He wasn't concerned with how suspicious he looked at the moment. As soon as it was dark he was gone anyway. While the other guests turned in for the night, he quietly climbed down the window and snuck off to the Palace of the Kings, the Jarl's dwelling, to dig up some dirt on him.

     He already moved as quietly as a mouse naturally, but he had to admit the Nightingale armor had its perks. With it's enchantment, he made no sound at all as he crept and he doubted if even the souls of the dead could hear him sneak. And he could cloak himself in the dark and be near invisible to the guards that stood watch. He snuck right past them and into Jarl Ulfric's quarters.

     He stood over the Nord as he slept in his bed. He found it quite comical that the man had no idea how he was watched in his own household. He tried to keep from laughing as he silently opened drawers and searched through belongings. Then he sat on a chair nearby and read the dossier he found on Mira.

     It was a rather detailed account of her exploits it Skyrim. Written rather poorly. Obviously by a soldier and no eloquent bard or poet. But it told a tale it seemed. Of how a blond haired, blue eyed stranger with a scar on her left cheek was picked up by Imperial soldiers. Caught in an ambush. And taken with Ulfric and his band of Stormcloak rebels to Helgen after fleeing Solitude for murdering the king.

     Oh and how it emphasised that Ulfric killed the High King in _fair_ combat, and that it was no assassination. Brynjolf resisted chuckling. It continued to tell of how Mira was to be executed when the dragon attacked out of nowhere, burning Helgen to the ground. And what was the first thing Mira did when she escaped? Why, go to the nearest town and warn them of a dragon attack...even if that town was loyal to the very empire that tried to execute her.

     Then she dicovered that she was Dragonborn. A being that was able to perminantly kill a dragon by absorbing its soul. And it was then that the voice could be heard all across Skyrim. The voice of the Greybeards, men that dwelled on the Throat of the World, within High Hrothgar, that called the Dragonborn to them to teach her the Way of the Voice. Just as Ulfric had been taught. The dossier seemed to describe how it was a prophesy long forgotten by man that the dragons would return, and so would a Dragonborn. Brynjolf sat back in the chair.

     She had done many things along the way to her supposed destiny. Travelled all over, helping anyone she could in whatever way. Even there in Windhelm, solving murders and finding the killer dubbed 'the butcher'. Snuffed out the Dark Brotherhood assassins, ended a war, even if only temporarily, and all this before finally settling in Riften, her birthplace, and making it her home. And that was the last anyone had heard of her. But why?

     Why was there nothing left to say about it? If Mira had been so well known all over, why did she disappear without a trace? Brynjolf quietly and gingerly closed the book and set it on an end table. Then he sat there in silence as the Jarl and 'would be' king snored in his bed. He was curious if the Jarl knew more than what was written in that book. So he sat and waited for him to wake up to ask him.

* * *

     Ulfric Stormcloak sat in his throne as he eyed the cloaked figure before him. This man had questions about the Dragonborn, the woman he met at High Hrothgar to negotiate with General Tullius of the Imperial legion. The woman who had been so persuaded by him to take up his cause and fight along side him across Skyrim. Right to the gates of Solitude. Ulfric had dismissed his guards and it was only the two of them in the hall. This cloaked figure stood before him, arms folded, silently glaring. Waiting for his answer.

     "I do not know where the Dragonborn is." he admitted. "Why do you seek her?"

     "I think you're lying to me, Jarl Ulfric." said the man, a bit of laughter in his voice. "I think you know more than what you put into that dossier of yours." he said snidely.

     "Been going through my things like a common criminal, I see." Ulfric leaned forward in his chair. "The only reason your still alive, Sneak, is that I also wish to know of the Dragonborn's whereabouts." he scoffed. "Tell me what you know before I Shout you over that table." he demanded.

     The cloaked figure laughed, then he pulled back his hood and pulled off his mask. He was revealed to be a red haired Nord, with a mischievous smile spread across his face and gleaming eyes. He bowed in an exaggerated manner.

     "My name is Brynjolf. And Mira is a very dear friend of mine. She's gifted with the Voice as you are, is she not? And I wondered if that connected you to her disappearance. So...why don't you tell me what _you_ know?" he squinted his eyes and eyed Ulfric with scrutiny.

     Ulfric sat back in his chair. "So we both think one knows more than the other then?" he asked, rubbing his chin in thought. He was usually good at reading people, and could tell this man had genuine concern for Mira. He sighed, and spoke plainly.

     "It is true that I can use the Voice as she does. But I am not Dragonborn like her. Her abilities far surpass my own. The only ones who may know of what that gift entails are the Blades that served under her against Alduin, and the Greybeards themselves."

     Brynjolf scratched his chin. "Where can I find these Blades?" he asked. 

     "No one knows except the Dragonborn. The Akaviri that formed the Blade mercenary guild have been gone for centuries. And even so, only two were at High Hrothgar with Mira. They haven't been known to Skyrim for so long...I highly doubt they have a temple anywhere...unless..." he trailed off in thought. Then he leaned forward again. "The Thalmor had been searching for someone named Esbern, I heard. He was one of the Blades at High Hrothgar."

     "Esbern? I've heard of him. Crazy old man living in the Ratway Warrens in Riften...That's how I met..." Brynjolf grew quiet then. He cleared his throat. "So you say the Thalmor might know of him?...You seriously believe I'd go wrestle with them for information? That's like asking an elk to have 'polite conversation' with a sabrecat." he chuckled.

     Ulfric smirked. "I wouldn't ask that of anyone. The Thalmor agents are treacherous, and I know for a fact they plot against the people of Skyrim...But you're good with stealth, no? You sneak into their Embassy outside Solitude, and I will go, personally, to High Hrothgar and learn what the Greybeards might know. You can meet me there with whatever information you find."

* * *

     Brynjolf considered his offer. It seemed an unlikely alliance. A man like Brynjolf, a prince of thieves, and the Jarl of Windhelm who aspired to be king?...Ah well, Shor's bones, what did it matter? It would either lead them to Mira, or lead them to disaster. And Mira was worth the risk.

     "Give me a few days to set it up, and consider it done." Brynjolf nodded as he spoke. Then he donned his hood once more and left the palace.

     He hoped with all sincerity that Nocturnal wasn't watching from somewhere and screwing with his head. By the Nine this was interesting.


	8. The Companions of Whiterun

     Karliah breathed slowly. In and out, as if she were about to fire an arrow from her bow, before opening the doors to Jarvaskr.

     She had considered sneaking in this large hall, made from the belly of a longship, that housed warriors within...but she thought better of it. Would be no use to try and gather information that way, and if these people were allies of Mira's perhaps honesty and strait-forwardness was actually the preffered option.

     So why did she feel like she was wandering into the wolves' den?

     All eyes were upon her as she entered. She looked out if place, dressed in black. She removed her mask, and pulled back her hood, so that none could mistake her for a vampire or such of the like. The lady at the inn told her lingering blooded creatures of the night attacked the day before and everyone was wary.

      A woman in scant armor and war paint approached. A human, Nord propably, judging by her height. She reminded Karliah much of Mira, though with reddish brown hair and haunting eyes.

     "What business do you have with the Companions, elf?" she asked. Her tone was not commanding, but merely one of curiosity.

     "My name is Karliah. I had hope to speak with your leader." she replied.

     "We have no leader." she stated, crossing her arms. "Have not for many generations. There is one we call our Harbinger, who does act as advisor, but she is absent. I speak in her stead. I am called Aela."

     "Then perhaps you can answer my question." Karliah stepped forward. "You may have met a woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Her name is Mira Ironhide. Have you seen her?"

     Aela sighed. "She is the Harbinger. As I said she is absent."

     "Do you know where she went?" Karliah asked fervently.

     "No, I'm afraid I do not. Is there anyway we can help you?" as she spoke a man had walked over to stand next to her. They both eyed her in curiosity.

     "I must find Mira. I believe she is in danger...I believe we all are." she admitted, unable to hide the foreboding in her heart.

     "What do you think, Vilkas?" Aela asked the man next to her. He nodded.

     Aela turned to Karliah once more.

     "If you are looking for the Harbinger, we will help anyway we can." she stated.

     "Is that so?" Karliah questioned.

     "That's what we do. When people call upon us in need of our swords and sheilds we come. Whatever the nature of the thing. And it seems you have need of us. I feel it shifting in the moons."

     This woman spoke with integrety and earnesty. She was most serious. Karliah raised a brow.

     "I can see why Mira wanted to join you then." she said. "That is her very nature."

     "Yes. The Harbinger is a fine woman, elf. She has helped us in many ways as well. So let us return the favor then." Aela smiled a little.

     If it meant finding Mira, Karliah welcomed the help. She nodded. Aela went and whispered to a nearby Companion, perhaps giving him turse instruction in their leave, then she grabbed her bow as the man called Vilkas strapped his sword and shield. Then they suggested they go to the top of the hill to Dragonsreach first, and speak to the Jarl of Whiterun.

     It was rumored that Mira had trapped a dragon there recently, and it could have something to do with why she was missing. The Jarl knew first hand, knew the truth of the matter.

     Vignor Greymane, who became Jarl after Balgruf, when the empire fell to Ulfric Stormcloak, sat in the throne looking very tired and old. His grey hair thinning, but he smiled well enough when the Companions approached. Karliah stood silently as they asked him about the dragon. He said he had not seen it personally, for that was when Balgruf the Greater was still in power, but Farengar had. Farengar the court wizard, the foolish mage to almost have his head bitten off because he grew too curious of the dragon.

     "It was most interesting!" he said exitedly. "To see one in person, to get that close to a real dragon!" the mage beamed as he spoke, and Karliah couldn't help but be annoyed by him already.

     "What happened to the dragon?" Aela demanded. "Did she slay it?"

     "Uh, no actually." he stated. "She flew off on it...and before I got a chance to run some tests on it, sadly." he frowned in disappointment. "It said something about Skaldafn, and then they flew off. No one has seen her since."

     Skaldafn? Where in Oblivion was that? Karliah had never heard of it. She suddenly cursed herself then for knowing so little of dragons and their knowledge...was it in another realm perhaps? Was that the reason why Mira was not in their world, as Nocturnal said?

     "Have you spoken to the Greybeards?" Farengar asked. "The Dragonborn had been summoned by them, you know. Perhaps...they know what happened to the Dragonborn?"

     "We should speak with the Greybeards then." Aela said to Karliah. She nodded.

     They lived high up on the Throat of the World, and spoke to almost no one. Would they be willing to speak with her? Karliah asked Nocturnal in her mind for guidence then, as she, Aela, and Vilkas left Dragonsreach.

     She informed them that she needed to make contact in Ivarstead, and see what Brynjolf had learned. Hopefully he learned more information than she. And hopefully he would be there as he said he would, for the sooner they figured this out, the sooner they would find Mira.

     And it seemed Mira was into far more than Karliah originally guessed. Supposedly riding a dragon? Seemed far fetched, to be honest, but not entirely unthinkable. If dragons could exist, and dragonborn, vampires, werewolves and Nightingales...then why not riding a dragon? Why not having that power, to control an immortal creature thought dead for centuries, and using that creature to transport her to another realm...

     The bigger question was why.

     After the day's journey, they arrived in the little hamlet called Ivarstead, at the bottom of the great mountain it stood under. It was quiet there. Even the trees seemed to rustle their leaves more calmly than other places.

     Brynjolf was not there. He was late in arrival, apparently. So she and the Companions waited at the inn for him. Vilkas, who said little on the journey, chose to speak then and persist that they go to High Hrothgar without him.

     She couldn't. Whether he liked it or not, he was a Nightingale, and therefore charged the same as she with discovering what happened to Mira, and seeking out her allies, as their Lady had ordered. It was imperative that she waited for him. But the Companions didn't know that. And they didn't know as she did how in love with Mira he was, and how cross he would be if he learned she sought her out without him.

     But Karliah conjured a good and thick lie, smoothing the warriors over in their discontent. For now, they would wait. And for now, share a drink as a beautiful bard named Lynly Star-Sung played softly on her lute nearby.


	9. In Your World and In Mine

     Far away from Skyrim, in the land called Thedas, Mira Ironhide had no idea of the trouble that was brewing in her homeland. Had no idea that two of Nocturnal's Nightingales searched for her, and no idea of the trouble the Mistress of the Night warned them of if she didn't return. Instead she was walking in the sunshine, to a place called the Hinterlands, in search for a woman named Mother Giselle, who tended refugees of an ongoing war.

     With her were three new allies. A magical, watchful and quiet elf named Solas, a fearsome shield maiden named Cassandra, and a joking dwarf named Varric. And how they berated her with questions. Half the time she couldn't tell if they were genuinely curious of her, or were interrogating her to try and find plot holes in the 'story' she had spun.

     "Solas believes you to be a dragon trapped in a human body, 'Herald'." stated Cassandra as they walked. Mira glanced at Solas. He merely strided, looking strait ahead, using his magical staff as a walking stick. Mira rolled her eyes a little.

     "Well I am certain you'd rather have that than a human trapped in a dragon's body, correct?" she asked with a smile.

     "Oh definitely." said Varric as he chuckled. "So I have a question. About these pointy eared dwarves of yours. You said they were extinct. What happened?"

     "The Dwemer. Deep elves, otherwise known as simply the dwarves. They occupied Skyrim long before my ancestors came from Atmora to settle in Skyrim. Scholars still study their underground ruins for knowledge of their disappearance. Supposedly they were using arcane forces to reclaim immortality, and then they...just disappeared. Their technology was far more advanced than our own, even for today, centuries later. I met an arcane scholar at the mages college of Winterhold who was trying to reenact what they had supposedly done. He was trying to obtain immortality, I suppose. It backfired and he disappeared. To where, I do not know, but perhaps wherever the Dwemer are now. For they are certainly no longer in the mortal realm. Perhaps in that aspect he suceeded."

     "So what exactly did they do to become immortal?" Varric asked.

     Mira shrugged. "Very daft and stupid things." she chuckled. "Supposedly they attempted to tap into the Heart of Lorkhan, a very ancient and powerful artifact as old as time itself. Lorkhan, my people call him Shor, created the mortal realm using the power of the immortal Et'Ada. The Ehlnofey, of which all elven races descend, believed they were once immortal and divine and that Lorkhan tricked the gods into creating the mortal realm, leaving them powerless. Though my people believe that they did it willingly. And it is believed by most that Lorkhan gave his own body in the making and that all that is physical to our realm is made from his body. That we are all made from Shor's bones."

     Solas cocked his head to the side as they listened and walked. "You seem to possess much wisdom of your people," he stated. "How does a warrior such as yourself know so much?"

     "I _listen_." she told him wrily. "And I read. Anything and everything I've found in my travels. There is much more power in knowledge than how much gold you carry, elf." she smirked. He smiled a little.

     "With that I agree." he said.

     "Yes, but there is a such thing as too much power." chided Cassandra. "Obviously your dwarves dicovered this truth." she raised a quizzical brow.

     "And you would be correct." said Mira as she smiled at her. "So what of dwarves in Thedas?" she asked them. "How do _your_ people fair, Varric?"

     "Well their not _extinct_ , at least." he shrugged.

     "Though they are but a shadow now of the great civilization they once were." said Solas. "Comparatively, one could say they are but the severed arm of a once mighty hero, now lying in a pool of blood."

     "Harsh way of putting it." scoffed Varric.

     "Nonetheless true, however." remarked Solas.

     "My people also had massive underground cities, connected throughout Thedas by the Deep Roads. But they were all but destroyed by the first blight, overrun by darkspawn. I hate to say, but Solas is right. My people are nowhere close to what they once were." Varric hung his head a little. "Well, makes for a great story anyway."

     Mira raised a brow. "Darkspawn? Are they demons? Like the ones from the...Fade, as you call it?" she asked them. It was Cassandra who answered.

     "According to the Chantry, they were created when the magisters of the Tevinter Imperium opened a portal into the Golden City, tainting the realm of the Maker with their corruption and returning as the first darkspawn, their evil transfiguring them into the monsters they became.

     "While underground, they grew in number and dug deeper and deeper into the earth until they found the resting place of the Old God Dumat, where he had been imprisoned. Freed from his prison and warped by the taint the darkspawn bore, Dumat became the first of the archdemons and led the darkspawn to lay waste to the world in what would become known as the First Blight."

     Mira leaned her head in that revelation. "It seems there are always consequences for trying to take the power of the gods." she said, and Cassandra nodded.

     "The Tevinter, however, have a different version." stated Solas tursly. "They persist that the darkspawn were not of their doing, and existed long before they, perhaps since the beginning of time."

     "And which version is truth?" Mira asked.

     Varric spoke. "The truth is that no matter where they came from, or who created them, they're a threat to everything and everyone in Thedas whenever a blight arises." he asserted.

     "Of that I am sure we all can agree." said Cassandra. They all nodded, relenting their agreement.

     "So what of other elves in your homeland?" Solas asked suddenly, breaking the momentary silence. "You said your dwarves are extinct, but you have met other Elvhen races, you say?"

     "Yes. Many. The Altmer from the Summerset Isles. High elves we call them. As tall as my race, but some are fierce, bent on the enslavement of mankind. Though not all. Just those most loyal to the Aldmeri Dominion, agents called the Thalmor...And there are Bosmer, wood elves from Valenwood. They live off the land and are said to reside in giant mirgratory trees...Orsimer, the Orcs. A warrior race that worship the dread Malacath as their god-ancestor. There are no finer smiths in Skyrim, save perhaps for Eorlund Grey-Mane, a companion of mine." she smiled.

     "The Falmer, those betrayed by the Deep elves, devolved over centuries to nothing more than blind savages. They reside in the abandoned ruins of the Dwemer. Pitiful folk. No longer the great Snow elves that clashed with my ancestors...And the Dunmer, the Dark elves from Morrowind. Driven out of their homeland when the Red Mountain erupted. One of my dearest friends and greatest allies is a Dunmer. Karliah. She saved my life when we met, oddly by shooting me with one of her arrows. And by the gods it hurt." Mira laughed.

     "She saved your life by...shooting you?" Varric chuckled. "Do explain. I'm curious."

     "I was sent to kill her actually. For her murdering a man named Gallus. In a twist of events, the man I was with, Mercer Frey, was the true culprit. The arrow was meant for him. Dipped in a poison that wouldn't kill, but paralize the victim. She intended on bringing him to justice. But she shot me me mistake, and Mercer thought I was dead. He escaped and I pledged to take up with Karliah and hunt him down."

     "So it worked out then?" Varric asked.

     "Yes. Quite well. We tracked Mercer down, but unfortunately, I had to kill him." her gaze grew heavy in thought. She still regretted that. But it was in the past now.

     "So your elven races then." Solas persisted. "You choose to classify them by where they live, or what they look like then?...Is not that very ignorant of you?"

     Mira laughed at his insult.

     "It does seem that way. Once again, when you say it like that. But even the races of elves in my land are as different from one another as I am to you. Luckily for you, I am not quite as ignorant as others of my kind can be. People are people by their deeds."

     "You hold much merit in what a person does with their life." mused Cassandra. "That is very honorable."

     Mira did. That she could not deny. And at that moment, she wondered what these people would do with theirs when they closed the breach in the sky and she returned to Skyrim.

      _If_ she were able to return.

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Cass' explanation of the darkspawn is taken directly from Dragon Age wiki, as to avoid inaccuracy, as I am not as familiar with Dragon Age lore as I am Elder Scrolls lore)


	10. Battle Scars

     Cassandra Pentaghast did not know what to think of Herald of Andraste that she walked beside in the Hinterlands. Apart from being so tall...and so scantily clad...she was simply so different.

     Loud and brash, rather like a brute Qunari warrior, only unlike the horned giants that occupied Thedas, her horns were on her helmet. But she was honest in her way, not shying from showing her feelings. Cassandra admired that.

    Apart from being overly curious of this world, it seemed all that Mira was concerned with was putting a stop to the Breach and the chaos it had wrought. Claimed to be of heroic nature. Telling such tales of slaying world eating dragons, ending wars, and was able to use magic with her voice. And was afraid of nothing. Not the Fade raining terror upon them, demons, dangerous and uncontrolled rebel mages, an army of Templars...she feared nothing.

     Cassandra found that most curious.  For all she could feel was her heart fill with dread. But seeing this fearless warrior gave her hope. And hope they would need.

     It did seem rather heretical that someone of her look and nature would supposedly be called Herald. But why would it matter who the Maker sent them? Not when she was needed, and willing enough to help. As opposed to using the magic on her hand to only assist in destroying Thedas.

     That was what mattered to Cassandra at the moment. And she could not help but admire this woman's spirit.

     The way she spoke of her people...of her world...Cassandra could not help but think she was telling the truth. Or at least she did not lie. She had a way of speaking earnestly, and even if she really weren't from another realm entirely, Mira certainly believed it was true.

     And this heretical madwoman had a mark of magic on her hand that could control and close the rifts that sprouted in the breach's wake. Cassandra mused upon that.

     ...In the Hinterlands, the fighting had spread, and Cassandra and the others wasted no time in fending the ravagers off the townsfolk at the Crossroad. She noted upon how valiantly Mira faught, swinging her greatsword as if it were a rapier, as if it were lighter than a feather.

     Mira smiled when she faught. She reveled in the fray. It was a little intimidating, had to be frightening for the one at the other end of her blade.

     Three Templars charged at them. They didn't know if they were friend or foe, and faught whoever, in a bloodrage. Cassandra pulled up her shield, expecting a blow from a sword but there was none. Instead, she saw Mira plant her feet and suck in a deep breath.

     "Yol...Toor...Shul!" the warrior shouted, and a blast of flame spewed from her mouth. Cassandra gaped. So it was true. She _could_ breathe fire like a dragon.

     It incinerated the soldiers that attacked, and left only the frightened villagers standing and watching nearby. When the threat was dispatched of and all were safe, Mira went looking for Mother Giselle.

     She informed Mira that perhaps it was not too late to seek assistance and favor from the Chantry. She even had names of clerics she believed would give her audience in Val Royeux, the city in Orlais. She had hope. For Mira, for the Inquistion. She had to have it. They all had to, at the moment.

     Mira did not see where it was worth it to try speaking to them, but Mother Giselle convinced her otherwise. Cassandra had no idea what she said to Mira to change her mind, but nevertheless she traveled back to Haven with them, and gave Leliana the information she had. And they prepared to travel to Val Royeux.

     ...Back at Haven Cassandra found herself restless. She hoped and prayed that they succeeded in swaying the Chantry, and hoped that all their planning and preparation would not be for nothing. She hacked and slashed at a wooden practice dummy with her sword, cutting deeply into it, as flecks of wood spattered.

     Out of the corner of her eye, she saw none other than the Herald walking out of the village gates, approaching her. Cullen was nearby, training new recruits that joined their forces, taking up their cause. Mira yelled for him and motioned for him to come over.

     "These soldiers need training, Herald!..err..." Cassandra heard him clear his throat. "...Mira, I mean."

     "Yes! _They_ need training! _You_ need a drink." she bellowed, then turned to Cassandra. "You too, shield maiden." she said with a smirk. "Come! Drink with me."

     She moved to slump down on a stump and pulled the cork from the bottle of wine she had with her teeth. She carried two tin cups and poured wine in each cup for them, then sipped from the bottle. Cassandra and Cullen locked eyes for a moment, both knowing what the other was thinking, then begrudgingly sat on either side of the warrior. She didn't wear her helmet and her blonde hair flew haphazardly about in the wind.

     She leaned back against the post beind them.

     "So. Tell me how you got your scars." she said then.

     "You dragged us over here to swap tales of battle?" Cullen asked before taking a drink.

     "Among other things, but yes. So? How did you get it?" Mira stared at him, waiting for an answer. He sighed.

     "In Kirkwall, a town north of here. When I still served the Templar order. Nasty business." he took another drink. Mira looked at Cassandra.

     "And yours?" she asked her. It was Cassandra's turn to sigh.

     "Does it matter?" she countered. "Or does it matter more that I have one?"

     "It does. Scars remind us of where we came from. What we've accomplished. All we've done to bring us here." said Mira. She spoke calmly, evenly, with much wisdom in her voice.

     "And what of yours then?" Cullen asked her. "What pray tell happened to you to earn that thing marring your face?" he raised a brow.

     "This?" she pointed to the line that stretched from the bottom of her left eye down her cheek. Cullen nodded. "This was no battle scar. I've had this most of my life. I was an orphan. The lady that ran the orphanage in Riften, where I was born, she gave it to me. I stole a sweetroll. Stupid child I was. It was a lot bigger and uglier when I was younger. I grew into it." she smirked a little at the corner of her mouth.

     "She gave you that for swiping cake?" Cassandra asked, a little shocked by this revelation.

     "Oh yes. She was a horrid woman." Mira shook her head. "She is dead now. And it's in the past. But I always remember where I came from...there was a boy that always teased me for it. Said it made me look ugly. But one of the girls I played with said if I smiled more, it would make me look prettier." Mira took a swig from the wine bottle.

     "You certainly smile alot." scoffed Cassandra. Mira again smiled at her.

     "Ah but it doesn't change the way I look." she said candidly. Then she stood up abrubtly, and pulled at her tunic to show them her waist. "Now this...I got from fighting a frost troll. Much more fun to remember." she beamed.

     Cassandra and Cullen shook their heads. A woman so proud of her scars. A scar from a troll, a scar from where her friend shot her with an arrow, saving her life, a scar from her days as a soldier at war. And many more. She was riddled with them.

     So many scars. So many memories. How in Andraste's name could this woman be so happy? All those memories. Each she felt honored to have, she said. Cassandra eyed her quietly. She was sure then that there was more to this woman than met the eye. There had to be. That behind that rakish grin, and gleaming blue eyes, so blue they were almost white...that there was pain. Pain she tried desperately to hide.

     And she wondered if that pain fueled her so...and perhaps Cassandra was wrong? Perhaps there was indeed something this woman feared after all? And how would it shape events to come?

     Cassandra downed her cup of wine.


	11. Archers and Mages

     Mira felt much better after telling her fellow warriors about her scars. She knew they needed that as much as she. Needed to see her human side, she supposed. Especially when already so many in Haven saw her as otherwise. It was as if they truly believed she was indeed a dragon. When the thought of her being the savior sent by their 'maker' was already intimidating enough, to think she was anything other than simply a human warrior...and the idea that she was from another world entirely...

     Varric told her of the rumors spreading beyond Haven. Everyone was saying the Herald of Andraste was a dragon. He even started joking himself, and called her the 'dragon lady', all the way to Val Royeux.

     The city itself was beyond compare. Mira couldn't help but stare, wideyed, at everything she saw. So gilded and ornate, it rivaled even the Whitegold Tower in Cyrodil she saw with her own eyes before returning to Skyrim. She imagined this city called Val Royeux being built by their gods...or god, it seemed. As Cassandra frequently corrected her. She could only imagine what their royal palaces looked like there.

     When they arrived in the city she, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas were informed of the Chantry clerics that stood in the streets, rallying the people, and of the Templar soldiers that guarded them. At first, it seemed natural to Mira that they would have warriors guarding the city, as demons were plaguing the land. But to see that they guarded the city from the Inquisition...that didn't reassure her.

     It seemed it would take some convincing to show them the Inquisition was not the enemy. For apperently, her closing rifts and fighting demons along the way there was not enough.

     And they accused her of murdering the Divine. The poor woman she saw in that strange vision at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Mira could not ever imagine doing such a thing, or why she would. She admitted to herself that she had done some unbelievable things back in Skyrim...but never in her life would she have a reason to kill a woman that tried to negotiate peace between the mages and soldiers at war. It was unthinkable.

     She and Cassandra both tried to convince the clerics that they came for peace, that they were not in Val Royeux to threaten. For the more important matter was that the breach still needed closing. It was to little avail, for within minutes, soldiers stepped up onto the platform where the clerics stood. One of them punched a cleric. That was low. What exactly were these men trying to prove?

     Was it meant to impress her?

     It didn't really seem so, for they informed them that they were abandoning Val Royeux, and would neither aid the city, nor the Inquisition. And that was not promising at all.

     Cassandra told her she knew the man that spoke to them when the soldiers left. Like her, he was a Seeker, the order that served the Divines. When the former Inquistion force disbanded, some of that force became the Seekers of Truth, answering to the Divine, and stepping in when the Templar order, also formed from Inquistion forces, negated it's duty as wardens to the Circle of Magi. These, Circles, as they were called, were the temples that housed young mages for protection and training far from the outside world. It was these Circles that mages rebelled against now, seeing the order as a prison, and this Lord Seeker they met with, the man was now in charge of the Templar order, and refusing them any assistance from them.

     He outranked Cassandra, and there was nothing she could do about the decision made. And it seemed to Mira that if this man would not listen to one if his own order, he would certainly not listen to the blasphemous Herald of Andraste. So it seemed neither the Seekers nor the Templars wished to aid in closing the breach. But at least the troublesome clerics were temporarily quelled, and no one tried to put her in chains again.

     What could possibly be more important than stopping the world from being terrorised by demons? This was all very daft behavior, and Mira began to wonder if there wasn't more underneath the surface of this predicament.

     They walked away from the clerics and suddenly...and arrow smacked the ground. On it was a peculiar note.

     It said that someone in Val Royeux was plotting against the Inquisition, and if they wanted help, follow the clues. Interesting. A scavenger hunt? But what for? Was this person who wrote the note meaning to trick them? Or did they have other reasons for being secretive. The others thought it was a waste of time, but Mira was curious. She wanted to know who this person was.

     She followed the clues. Hints of locations where tattered pieces of red cloth were hidden. A well enough puzzle to solve. She had solved much more difficult puzzles exploring ancient Nordic ruins in Skyrim. This seemed easy enough. Perhaps a bit...too easy?

     Attached to one of the pieces of cloth was another note, a secluded area of the city where Mira was to meet this elusive person. When she and the others got there, there were mercenaries waiting for them. It wasn't surprising. But what was odd was that they...well, they wore no pants. Someone stole their pants somehow before they arrived. Mira had to keep from laughing as she cut the poor sods down as they attacked her.

     There was a door at the end of the alley and she flung it open. There stood a man, wearing a mask. So was this the person that wrote the note and wanted to kill her?

     "By Talos, who are you?!" she demanded.

     "What do you mean who am I?" he asked with a strange accent, sounding digusted. He put his hands on his hips. "I'm too important to not be recognized!...And now I'll be more famous for killing you!"

     Before Mira could say anything, he sicked more of his men on them, and Mira swung her sword around and down upon them. They were quick, but she was quicker. They fell soon enough and all that was left was the man who spoke to her. She wanted answers from him.

     She didn't get any however. A small blond woman popped out from behind a crate and drew her bow.

     "Just say 'what'!" she said.

     "What the-" the man turned as an arrow struck his head. Cassandra and Varric and even Solas stepped back in surpise at this. Well, he said 'what'. Mira raised a brow at the woman. An elf like Solas. Wearing a red tunic, and plaid trousers.

     "That was good, yeh? 'Just say what'." she snickered.

     Mira smirked. "Yeah, it was good...So you're the one that wrote the note, I assume?...And the one that stole these soldiers' pants too?" she folded her arms as the little elf giggled again.

     "Yeah...pretty funny right?" she hung her bow over her shoulder. "So, you're the Herald thingy, right?...Funny, you look kind of normal up close." the elf crossed her arms and squinted.

     "I look _normal_ to you?" Mira chuckled.

     "Yeah well, sort of. I mean, you're really tall, and your helmet's kinda scary, but...you're just a person. But the important thing is, you glow."

     "I _glow_?" Mira asked.

     "Yeah, you know...with Heraldiness I guess. And that's what matters. Is you're _her_. And you're with the Inquisition, and you're trying to put things right."

     " _Trying_ is the key word in that." Mira said to her. "So let me get this strait. He was the one sent to kill me, and so you lured me here, and him here, so you could kill him?" the elf nodded.

     "Well then, friend. I believe introductions are in order." Mira removed her helmet, and tucked it under her arm. Then she held out her hand to shake the elf's.

     "I am Mira Ironhide. The one that _glows_ with Heraldiness." she smiled. The elf shook her hand.

     "I'm Sera." she said. "My lot's called the Friends of Red Jenny. We're sort of out there. Anywhere and everywhere we find big people stomping on little ones, and we stomp back. And sometimes take their purses...and breeches...you know, cuz I stole their...anyway..."

     "Some sort of band of criminals?" Cassandra asked, leaning her head to the side and eyeing Sera shrudely. Sera pursed her lips.

     " _Your_ lot see it like that, yeh?" she folded her arms again.

     "Criminal or not, it appears she is on our side." stated Solas. Varric shrugged and nodded in agreement.

     "Perhaps you and your friends would like to join us then?" Mira asked Sera. She shook her head.

     "I don't know if my outfit's all about that saving the world from demons and shite. We're not soldiers. I just wanted to keep _that_ tit" she glanced at the dead man in the mask, "from messin' up your plan."

     "Soldier, spy, criminal, whatever." said Mira. "You're good with a bow. And I can use that...and I'm sure you can use a heavier coin purse." Mira winked. Sera smirked.

     "Talkin' my language, Mira Ironhide." she chuckled. "...And you're trying to stop the demons. So there's that, so...alright."

     She shook Mira's hand.

     "So...about the pants I stole...you have people that buy that pish, yeh?"

     ...Cassandra did not see where hiring criminals would benifit them. But Mira didn't see it that way. She didn't employ a criminal, she employed an archer. Sera agreed to meet them in Haven, and see what could be done as far as putting her 'friends' connections to use. And if ever Mira needed, she agreed to tag along and put her bow to use, of which Mira couldn't wait to see. She was a good shot.

     Before leaving Val Royeax, they were approached by someone who offered an invitation to a little party, to meet with a lady named Vivienne.  
      
     This woman was a mage, apperently. One who belonged to the Circle of Magi Mira had heard of. A prominant member, a First Enchanter she had been called. And she wanted to offer her assistance to the Inquisition. And as they left the city gates, a more interesting thing occured. A woman named Fiona approached them. A former Grand Enchanter, the very woman leading the mage rebellion, according to Cassandra, and in a dangerous place. She also wished to dicuss allying with the Inquisition, where the Templars would not, and asked that they meet her in a place called Redcliffe should they choose to discuss it.

     Mira found that interesting.

     And she found that she wished to know more of this mage rebellion taking place. And who better to interrogate than a mage that already joined rank to stop the breach.

     She pulled Solas aside when they returned to Haven. He looked rather intrigued by Mira wishing to speak with him privately.

     "Do you wish to learn more about the magic of the Fade?" he asked jokingly, and Mira merely shook her head as she chuckled.

     "No, not this time, I'm afraid. This time...I've come to ask about you." she stated. He wrinkled his brow. He was curious.

     "And what do you hope to learn about me?" he asked.

     "How a mage like yourself came to be here in the first place." she replied. "It seems there is alot more going on here than I imagined...strange and curious things...and I'm curious why you are here."

     "My skills and knowledge are useful, are they not? It was I who kept that mark from killing you while you slept. And no one here knows more of the Fade and it's magic than I." he stated. He was rather disgruntled when he spoke. She sighed.

     "You think I question if you can be trusted." she said knowingly. "No, I have no doubt of that, to be sure. But there are people out there fighting mages, and I want to know why. Why they fight, why they rebel, everything. Tell me what you know of this Circle of Magi."

      "The Commander is the one you should be asking, 'Herald'. His Templars guarded the Circles. I am an Apostate who has never been part of a Circle. I suggest you ask _him_." he spoke as if irritated by the conversation. Mira persisted.

     "I'm not asking Cullen. I'm asking you. Why do mages rebel in this land?" she crossed her arms. Solas stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed.

     "Forgive me. I am not used to someone of your nature." he said.

     "My nature?" she asked.

     "Someone trusting of a mage. And someone who knows so little of this land. As you have said...you are from another realm entirely." he spoke a little sarcastically, and Mira understood. That statement was a hard one to believe. Even in a land like her own, where legends of dragons were truth, and the monsters in the stories mothers told their children weren't just stories.

     "It's rather simple, in a way, but also quite complicated." Solas began. "...At a very young age children that show signs of potential for magic are taken from their homes and given to a Circle, to be trained, guided, and also watched. Closely. Magic can be unpredictable, and those who wield it just as unpredictable. There are those who see the Circle of Magi as a haven, and those who see it as a prison. But there is far more to it than just that." he clasped his hands together. "That...is the simpler version. But the more intricate is the struggle over the power of the organization, and what rights the Magi should have over it's people."

     "You believe this Circle of Magi should be disbanded?" Mira asked him. He nodded.

     "And I also believe I know where you're going with these questions. You wonder if it's truly a good idea to discuss allying with the former Grand Enchanter...or should you simply enlist the help of the Orlesian enchantress, and try once again to speak to the Templars." he folded his arms once more.

     "If I had _my_ way, elf, I'd make _both_ these mages and warriors stop fighting and concentrate on the hole in the sky...But it seems I don't have the power to do so." Mira scoffed angrily. Solas nodded in understanding.

     "So what shall you do then?" he asked.

     "I don't know." she sighed. "Maybe I should just Thu'um them all."

     "Ah, your fire breath, yes...No, I don't think that's going to work, dragon." Solas smirked. "Though you could see what the First enchanter has to say. If a Templar can be turned from fighting to train Inquisition soldiers...perhaps a Circle mage can be turned as well."

     "You have a point." Mira leaned her head to the side. "So...you really still think I'm a dragon?" she chuckled.

     "Well, you're certainly no mere soldier with a sword, Mira Ironhide." he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

 


	12. The Thalmor Embassy

     Back in Skyrim, Brynjolf met Karliah at the Vilemyr inn at Ivarstead. He was late, and she wasn't alone. Two warriors sat with her at the table in the corner, and the three of them were restless. Karliah noticed Brynjolf at the door, and he motioned for her to join him outside. She whispered something to the warriors, then walked briskly over to him and out the door.

     "Who are they?" Brynjolf asked her in a hushed tone, as they stood outside in the dark, in the brisk air.

     "They're Companions. Friends of Mira's. They didn't know where she was either, but insisted they come along. They want to help." Karliah said to him.

     "You're kidding." Brynjolf folded his arms.

     "No, I'm not kidding." she said. "Our Lady did say seek her allies."

     Brynjolf huffed. "So, what did you find, lass?" he asked her.

     "The last anyone has seen of her was her hide riding off on the back of a dragon." she put her hands on her hips. "If it weren't for so many people saying the same thing, I wouldn't have believed it."

     "The back of a dragon?" he snorted a little in laughter. "Well I suppose if we can believe everything else we've seen..."

     "And you?...What did Ulfric have to hide?" Karliah was anxious.

     "Snooped around his things. Our Jarl of Windhelm had a very detailed journal on our Guild Master's exploits." he raised a brow. "Nothing on her whereabouts...But he on the otherhand...had quite a bit to say."

     Karliah blinked. "He actually told you something?" she asked. "What could that pig possibly have to say?"

     Brynjolf ignored her disgruntled attitude.

     "That he is just as interested in finding Mira. He's gone to High Hrothgar." Brynjolf leaned against the bannister of the porch and Karliah followed him over.

     "That old ruin up there?" she gestured to the mountain up above them, covered in snow.

     "The very same. He said the Greybeards might know something about it. Even said in his journal they summoned the Dragonborn to their fortress, for whatever reason Greybeards have to do so."

     "Some crazy wizard at Dragonsreach said the same thing." said Karliah, musing upon this information.

     "He also said the Thalmor might have information." Brynjolf smiled under his hood. "And I plan on breaking into their Embassy. We still have contacts in Solitude that can tip the city guards to stay away. Then we only have to deal with the Altmer."

     Karliah leaned her head to the side. "You're being serious...What could we possibly gain by doing that, Brynjolf? Other than making the Jarl happy by meddling in the elves' affairs?"

     He chuckled. "I thought the same. But they were looking for a man named Esbern a while back. I know that name. I remember Mira looking for him when we met. According to Ulfric, he was at High Hrothgar with her during a negotiation with the Imperial General. He called him a Blade. Said they were some sort of mercenaries that served the Dragonborn. Been gone for centuries though."

     "And you think the Thalmor may have uncovered more information about him? Including his hideout, perhaps?" Karliah asked him.

     "An interesting plan." said a voice behind them. It was the female Companion. They gaped at her.

     "I have very good hearing." she said to them. "So you plan on taking the Embassy then?" she shook her head. "Too well guarded. I only know of one person to ever get in. And that was Mira. She mentioned it once when we hunted together."

     "That's interesting, lass. But I don't really care." stated Brynjolf. He folded his arms and the warrior simply smirked at him.

     "Well good luck with that then." she said smartly. "Myself and my shield-brother will go up the mountain, and see if we can speak to the Greybeards. And as for Ulfric, I have friends in Whiterun that are loyal to him. I may be able to get more information from him than you could."

     "Well aren't you the cocky one." Brynjolf jeered at her. "Alright, lass, go to High Hrothgar then. We'll meet you when we have information."

     The warrior nodded, then headed back inside the tavern to grab her 'shield brother'. Brynjolf heard Karliah chuckle.

     "I think she likes you." she said to him. "You'd better let Aela down easy, Nightingale." she smirked.

     "What are you talking about?" he asked, but she was already saddling her horse, so he followed and mounted his.

     ...Brynjolf had an edge at least. One of the members of the Guild once told him about escaping the Thalmor Embassy. Etienne was his name. He told him there was a cave below the Embassy that led to the dungeon, so that would be Brynjolf's way in. As for getting out, he assumed the same way. Quick, simple and easy. He hoped. The Thalmor were a nasty business. Had their hands dipped in everyones pockets, and the best elven armor a smith could craft. So as long as he kept to the shadows, and didn't take them head-on, he had a chance.

     He and Karliah traveled northwest to Solitude, Skyrim's capital city, where an Argonian named Gulem-Ei stayed at the Winking Skeever inn. They dropped coin on the table in front of him to do what he could to keep attention off the Embassy. The lizard happily accepted it, and they left. Back to the shadows, out into the night.

     The fortress was a quick ride further up north, and only minutes on horseback. They made a wide birth around it and down a slope, over a hill to where the cave was supposed to be. Sure enough, it was there. They dismounted and readied themselves. Karliah had her Nightingale bow once more. She had given it to Mira once, but she wouldn't except it. For whatever reason he didn't know why.

     He pulled out his daggers and pulled his hood over his face, donning the mask of Nocturnal once more. He didn't have time to curse the measly Daedra at the moment, for they were already in the cave, and already there was trouble.

     A frost troll had taken residence in the cave once, and its bones were all that was remained of it. However, a snowy colored sabrecat now occupied it. Brynjolf and Karliah tangled with the beast, nearly getting themselves killed in the process. Karliah struck it in the face with an arrow as it pounced, and it landed on top of her.

     Brynjolf threw his weight on it and pushed the cat off of her. The both of them clambered up a rock to the back of the cave. There was a small hatch on the ceiling that Brynjolf pulled himself up through and then reached down to pull up Karliah.

     He felt something on the back of his neck. Heat, and sharp pain. He cursed himself. Something had hit him and he felt himself falling to the floor. Why had he not seen them first? And how could he have been so stupid as to let someone get the better of him.

     Karliah never came up from the cave, and he didn't see her when the elves dragged him away before he fell unconscious...

     ...Brynjolf woke with a start. His body hurt all over. His arms were stretched up above him, chained to the wall. His armor was gone and he could hear voices. He pretended to still be unconscious as the voices and footsteps got closer. Elven guards. He recognised that clinking sound of moonstone armor anywhere. Two, possibly three of them.

     They were gossiping about the Altmer Ambassador, Elenwyn. She had attended the negotiations at High Hrothgar with General Tullius, his Legate, and Jarl Elisif of Solitude, and met with Ulfric, and one of his generals, the Blades...and Mira of course. My, were these soldiers nosey. They knew everything about it. Spewing their gossip to one another about their reports on the matter. They even talked about the siege on Solitude, and how the humans of Skyrim were weakened.

     No Imperial forces, as they had left the province upon Ulfric taking the capital, overwhelming their numbers with the aid of the Dragonborn. And the Stormcloaks left weakened and fewer in number in light of the war. Now was the perfect time to act, they said. As soon as Elenwyn heard word on the status of the Emperor and his arrival in Skyrim. There would be a moot soon, to choose a new High King, or queen, and supposedly Emperor Tidus favored Elisif over Ulfric, and they wanted to keep it that way for she was more easily maneuvered.

     Oh but there was more for them to gossip about. Supposedly someone ordered the assassination of the Emperor, but a certain mistress layed waste to the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild before they got the chance to get involved. So they waited to see if the individual in question who wanted him dead would still see it through by other means.

     Alot of information for Brynjolf to soak in as he pretended to be asleep. He guessed that some of it could be nothing more than rumor or speculation. But it was certain that the Thalmor were given instruction to overtake Skyrim by whatever means. If they overtook the free province of Skyrim, it would give them hold and leverage against the empire. Somehow. Interesting, when Skyrim itself was nothing more than a snowy wasteland dotted with dwarven ruins.

     There was a scuffle. Brynjolf opened his eyes to see two of the three soldiers drop to their knees, swords in their backs. The third turned around and received a knife to the weak center of his armor before he could make a sound. He spit blood as he sunk to the floor and a hooded figure swiped his key.

     She opened his cell. It wasn't Karliah. She was human. A dark haired woman with curious yellow eyes. She undid the chains and he fell to the floor. He tried to get up but couldn't. He was weaker than he thought he was. Before he could ask who the woman was, or why she freed him, he fell unconscious one more.

     Funny. The last thing on his mind before blacking out was Mira's sunny blonde hair...


	13. The Blades

     Karliah had watched as the Altmer yanked Brynjolf up and into the dungeon, and she backed away slowly and silently into the shadows, to not be seen. It would do neither of them any good if they both got caught.

     She was tempted scold him when she rescued him for his daft plan, but thought the better of it. Neither of them expected the High elves to be that crafty enough to discover two adept sleuths such as themselves. They slammed shut and locked the hatch and the cave was dark.

     It was a few quiet seconds before Karliah felt someone near her, and a hand come up to cover her mouth. She glared in the dark at the individual meaning to silence her, knowing full well how quickly she could draw her bow.

     "Don't do anything stupid." said the woman in a hushed voice. "I'm not your enemy." then she slowly pulled her hand away. Karliah simply stared at her.

     She was a human with short dark hair, part of it pulled back in braids, and curious eyes. They were yellow, and quite eerie for a human to possess. Karliah had never seen it before.

     "Name's Serana." she said quietly. "I've been following you two. You're looking for Mira." she said.

     "What are your intentions, exactly...Serana?" Karliah whispered. The woman snorted a little in quiet laughter.

     "Isn't it obvious? We're looking for the same person. I heard she had friends in the thieves guild in Riften. So I went looking for her. Well, she wasn't there, but you two were. I've been following your friend the whole way."

     "What do you want with Mira then?" Karliah eyed her distrustingly.

     "I need her help. Everyone does. I'm afraid alot of bad stuff is going to go down if she doesn't come back from wherever she's run off to." Serana sat back on her heels as she crouched.

     Karliah crossed her arms. "And you mean me to believe you're here to help us?"

     "Don't have much of a choice do you?...And trust me, if I wasn't here to help, I would've killed you already."

     Karliah sighed.

     "We're looking for the Blades. Supposedly they're in league with the Dragonborn, a group of people who serve her, but we've yet to know their location." Karliah hoped that sharing this information wasn't going to end up screwing her.  She watched as Serana's face formed a quizzical expression in the dark.

     "We'll you're in luck, thief. I happen to know where they are...or at least have a good idea. So, shall we see about helping your friend out then?" she smirked. Karliah nodded.

* * *

     Brynjolf awoke to find himself slumped over his horse. He sat up quickly when he realized what had happened. Looking to the left of him he saw the dark haired woman with yellow eyes. And on the other side of her, Karliah. Well then. They managed to get him out of the Embassy in one piece.

     "Here." said the woman next to him as she tossed his armor to him.

     "Where are we?" he asked as she handed him his reigns.

     "Rorikstead." stated Karliah from behind her mask. Her voice sounded irratated. He almost wondered what happened between her and this woman while he slept, but he didn't ask.

     "I'm Serana by the way...and you thieves have trust issues." she glanced at Karliah, who said nothing.

     "So, Serana. Explain to me why we're outside Rorickstead." he reared his horse to a stop to dismount and throw on his armor over the rags he wore.

     "Serana believes the Blades are in Karthspire." Karliah answered for her.

     "Well...they _were_. Supposedly. Most wouldn't know about the place, been lost to the ages now. Probably a ruin. But the Akaviri used to have a temple here in Skyrim. Skyhaven Temple." Serana said.

     "And it's in Karthspire?...So we go from Thalmor, to possibly tangling with the Forsworn then? Karth is riddled with them." Brynjolf shook his head. "So if this temple has been lost...how do you know of it?" he eyed her in curiosity.

     Serana fiddled with her reigns. "Let's just say I'm older than I look." was all she said.

     Brynjolf crossed his arms and looked at Karliah.

     "She's all we have to go on." she said to him hopelessly. He shook his head again in disbelief.

     "So we travel to Karthspire then?" he asked, looking up at the both of them. They nodded.

     Reluctantly he mounted his steed once more and nudged on the brute to get moving. It would be a slow ride west to the lands in the Reach. But they were nearly there now. The place was riddled with bears, sabrecats, bandits and Forsworn. Why in the world the guards at Markarth called it the 'safest city in the Reach' he had no idea. The place was constantly sacked by Forsworn, and those Bretons were a nasty and savage bunch.

     And people thought _Riften_ had a bad reputation? Brynjolf shrugged to himself. Why should it surprise him that Mira might end up in a place like this? It seemed she was attracted to danger in a way. It was what had attracted her to his outfit long ago. She liked the danger, was comletely enthralled by it. And completely fearless. Brynjolf had to admit it was one of her best qualities.

     It seemed she was always getting caught up in something. Whether it was slaying dragons, hunting criminals, or fighting in a war. Everywhere she went she left a trail of people looking to her, astonished by her, whether by her knack for sword play, or the power of her Voice. Perhaps it was the real reason Brynjolf left her alone, never told her how he really felt. Because besides the excuse of having Guild business to deal with...the truth was...he never felt good enough for her. No one was.

     And after hearing all the Thalmor had to gossip about, it seemed she was needed. Not even Ulfric could lie that his war was won because the Dragonborn fought at his side. And if the Thalmor meant to wage war on Skyrim?...That was bad for business all around if Mira didn't return.

     Brynjolf swore he'd beat the Blades to pieces if he had to in order to get an answer from them. They had to find her.

     ...Karthspire was in ruin. Surprisingly it had been abandoned by the Forsworn, and all was quiet when they rode into it that night. In fact, it was _too_ quiet.

     "Supposedly the ruins are...here." Serana pointed. It was a cave.

     "Great." Brynjolf muttered. " _Another_ cave. I'm getting sick of these lately."

     Serana smirked at his words.

     They dismounted and drew their weapons. Entering quietly. There were a few torches lit. Someone had been there recently, and perhaps they were there still. Inside there were empty bedrolls, and open chests. Someone had cleaned the place out when they got there.

     They slowly made their way to the back of the cave when they were stopped.

     A blonde woman...was it Mira?...No, couldn't be. Even in the dim light he could see it was not her face. This woman was older. Bound in strange armor, it was black, and made of steel trappings and quicksilver. Was this woman a Blade? She certainly pointed hers at him. And standing next to her was an elderly man, who readied his magical flame in his hand. A man Brynjolf vaguely remembered.

     "I'm guessing you're the Blades we've been looking for." Brynjolf said under hood. Then he looked at the old man. "And you must be Esbern."

     The old man leaned his head. "How do you know me?" he asked him. It was Serana who answered him.

     "We're friends with the Dragonborn." she said with a smirk as she crossed her arms. At Brynjolf's signal, he and Karliah sheathed their weapons to show they meant no harm.

     "Are you her messengers? Has she returned?" asked the blonde most anxiously.

     "Well it seems already she's not here either." said Karliah, a little disappointment in her voice. The old man flicked his wrists and his flames disappeared, he motioned for the woman to sheathe her sword. Reluctantly she did so.

     "I...I think I remember you." said the old man to Brynjolf. "Down in the Ratways of Riften." he furrowed his brow. "I recognize your voice."

     Brynjolf pulled off his mask and pulled off his hood.

     "Aye. You probably do. Now...are one of you going to tell me where Mira went? Or are we going to see who's blade is sharper?" he demanded.

     "We didn't come here to fight, Brynjolf." Karliah chided.

     "I don't really care." he scathed. "I got my ass handed to me by Thalmor at their little fortess." then he huffed. "I'm damned sure not letting the trail get cold now. Tell me what you know." he glared at the Blades. The blonde's eyebrows raised.

     "Thalmor?...You broke into their Embassy?...I've only known one person to do that and live." she stated.

     "Mira." chimed Brynjolf, Karliah, and Serana at once.

     "Why don't you three come with us." said Esbern suddenly.

     ...He led them through the ruins and into what he said was all that remained of Skyhaven Temple. Beautiful and vast...ancient carvings of a time long forgotten were etched on the walls.

     "Little is known of the Akaviri." said Esbern as they followed him up the steps to the great hall of the temple. "Even less about the Blades. Before the Penitus Oculatus, and the signing of the White-gold Concordat, it was the Blades who guarded the Emperor. And before that, they served the Dragonborn. That much I have learned in my studies. Though there is still much more to learn about them."

     They entered the hall, and before them was a massive wall, upon which there was a mural depicting mortals battling dragons. Brynjolf stared in wonder at it. So did the others.

     "This is what remains of the Blades." said Esbern. "This is Alduin's Wall."

     "I never thought it actually existed." stated Serana in amazement. "Heard of it...but never actually believed."

     "It's beautiful." was all Karliah could say.

     Esbern continued. "It tells the tale of the previous Dragonborn, and the Blades that fought with them. Here, in the center, you can see what was thought to be the supposed defeat of Alduin...and here...you see the Dragonborn standing against him in battle." he hovered his flames over the different parts of the carved mural like a torch.

     "But he wasn't defeated. Only thought to be." said the blonde. "He was thought to have been defeated using a Shout...but was cast through time by an Elder Scroll. Cast forward in time to be exact. To the present."

     "And at that time a Dragonborn also appeared." finished Esbern.

     "That Dragonborn being Mira." mused Brynjolf. "So the dragon wasn't dead or defeated...just adrift in time?" he asked.

     "Yes." stated Esbern. "Mira retrieved the Elder Scroll that sent him adrift and used it to learn the Shout crafted to weaken Alduin. In hopes to defeat him for good. He fled to Sovengarde to devour mortal souls and regain strength."

     "Sovengarde?...Alright now I understand why everyone called you crazy back in Riften." smarted Brynjolf.

     The blonde glared at him. "An immortal dragon returning to Skyrim, and a Dragonborn sent to defeat him, that can devour the souls of dragons...and Sovengarde is where you're stuck in disbelief?"

     Brynjolf shrugged. "You have a point, lass."

     "Delphine. My name is Delphine." she smarted. Brynjolf sighed.

     "Alright so...Alduin is in Sovengarde. What next?" he asked, humoring the Blades.

     "We held a meeting to discuss Jarl Balgruf allowing us to trap a dragon at Dragonreach." said Delphine.

     "Vignor mentioned that when I was in Whiterun." said Karliah. "They trapped the dragon and supposedly Mira rode off on it's back. They said to some place called Skaldafn." she crossed her arms.

    "Yes." said Esbern. "It is likely to have been a portal to Sovengarde. Only reachable by a dragon."

     "Well it seems we need to speak to a dragon then." stated Karliah. Everyone looked at her as though she were daft. Brynjolf merely chuckled.

     "How in Oblivion do you suppose we do that?" he asked.

     "I may have a way." said Delphine. "We discovered that the Greybeards were in league with a dragon. Parthanaax. We pleaded with the Dragonborn to slay him, but she refused. I'd hate to admit this, but he may be our only option of learning if Mira's returned and if Alduin truly has been defeated."

     "And this dragon is with the Greybeards now?" Brynjolf asked. Delphine nodded. He turned to Karliah.

     "It seems everything points to High Hrothgar, lass." he stated and she nodded in agreement.

     "Well that's where we go then, right?" asked Serana. "And I don't see any reason to waste any time about it."

     With that all could agree.

     "We should join you." said Esbern. "I believe we would all like to have answers."

     "To High Hrothgar then." Brynjolf said with a smile.


	14. Who to Trust

     In Thedas, the one everyone so affectionately now called the 'dragon' walked through the hall of the Chantry with the Inquisition advisors and Cassandra. She had decided to accept the Lady Vivienne's request to join the Inquisition, and now it seemed that a decision had to be made about whether they persued the mages for assistance, or tried once again to speak to the Templars.

     "I still think we should speak to the Templars." said Cullen to the rest of them. "Granted, the mages are powerful, but too much power poured into that mark could possibly kill her." he stated.

     Mira chuckled. "You obviously have _no_ idea of the things I've been through."

     "But the mages could very well be setting a trap, Mira." he pleaded.

     "It was rather odd that the Grand Enchanter should wander so dangerously into Val Royeux to seek the Inquisition." remarked Cassandra.

     "Though that is not something that should be taken lightly." said Leliana. "It could be that they are desperate...though the reasons why...we have yet to know."

     "I think the mages _could_ be a more suitable option." stated Josephine, putting her hands on her hips.

     "And I disagree." stated Cullen, most irritated.

     "So you agree to disagree." said Mira, folding her arms. "At least you agree on something."

     "Why don't we hear _her_ opinion about it?" asked Cassandra, gesturing to Mira.

     "You want _my_ opinion? I'll give it to you." she snarked. "I still think there is a chance both parties can be reasoned with! They're stupid to fight in the first place. Whatever reason they have is null and void now."

     Cassandra sighed. "Not when both sides are pointing fingers at one another. Each must believe that the other is responsible, and in the meantime, attention is also turned towards _us_. If we do not act now to close the breach, it will get worse than it already is, I'm afraid."

     "Why not conveine another Conclave?" Mira asked. "If your Divine thought it was the answer..."

     "It's not that simple." said Leliana. "And in the meantime, we have the bigger problem, as you agree. Power is needed to close the breach. So, 'dragon', what will it be? Who would you choose?"

     "You do bear the mark, after all. The risk would end up being yours to take." said Cullen. Mira thought about that. Then she sighed.

     "It doesn't matter the risk I take. Either way, I'm afraid that whatever decision made will cause more problems than we need. It always does...eventually. And I suppose you are right. We must act soon. Or it's all for nothing, I fear." Mira wrinkled her brow in thought.

     "You _fear_?" Cassandra smirked a little. "I did not know one of your nature could feel fear." Mira looked at her.

     "I'm afraid of the same things you are. I just wear it well." she smirked. "Let me see what this Grand Enchanter has to say for herself. And then go from there."

     The others nodded and then parted ways, back to their duties. Even Cassandra dismissed herself. The only one that remained was Leliana. She pulled Mira aside.

     "There is another matter I wished to discuss with you, Mira." she said hushedly. Mira was all ears to her words. "I've recently learned that the Grey Wardens have disappeared. A group of people charged with combating the blight, fighting darkspawn. Skilled uniquely so. I find it curious they would all dissapear right now. When their resources could be most needed at a time like this."

     "That does sound strange." remarked Mira. "What do you intend to do with that?"

     "Well, I had hoped you would seek out a Warden I learned of named Blackwall. He has not dissapeared. I find it curious that he is still out in the Hinterlands, supposedly recruiting. I need you to...use your dragon ways. See if you can find out what he's doing there. Find out if it's possible that the Wardens could have anything to do with the Conclave."

     "That I can do." said Mira. Then she  stared at Leliana for a moment. "You remind me of a friend in Skyrim." she said suddenly.

     "I do?" Leliana smirked, quite curious.

     "Yes. A woman named Karliah. Very elusive that one is. Just like you." Mira beamed at her for a moment, then turned to walk away, leaving the Chantry.

     ...Out in the Hinterlands, Mira met Blackwall. A rather brute warrior, almost as tall as her, with shaggy black hair and a sword. Of which he used to cut through bandits that attacked unexpectedly. It seemed he could fight well enough. Mira wagered she would have quite the fight on her hands should he choose to attack. But he didn't. He was far more interested in why she interrogated him about Wardens.

     He had no information for her. It seemed he did not know the other Wardens had been missing either. He looked honest enough, she supposed. And he offered his sword to the Inquisition's cause. Whether fighting demons or darkspawn, it mattered little to him. He was up for a fight, regardless. That Mira had to admire. So she accepted his offer, and hoped she wouldn't regret it.

     Plus he offered to help the Inquisition enact treaties. Treaties which allowed Wardens to take what or who they needed, when they needed it, he said. No doubt that would help them bolster resources and soldiers. So that Mira could also accept.

     But now she was left with persuing the rebel mages, taking up residence in Redcliffe, and seeing as to why they were so willing to offer their assistance to the Inquisition. Mira was inclined to believe it was because the Templars turned away the Inquisition, and the mages saw them as a possible ally and refuge. But there were those that said otherwise.

     She was brave enough, and daft enough, to speak to them though. She had no idea what these Fade mages could do to her, should they choose to attack, but she imagined it would be an interesting fight. That made her smile.

     Solas insisted on accompanying her to Redcliffe, stating it would be easier to speak peacefully with the mages if they saw that the Inquisition already allied with an Apostate and meant them no harm. Varric also wanted to tag along, very interested in how his 'dragon lady' planned on handling them. And as well as Sera came, simply for the thrill of getting to sock some arrows in people should things go awry.

      Mira seemed fine with this arrangement, and set off to Redcliffe, of which the others showed her the way. There was a bit of trouble getting into the village as the townsfolk were set on by a rift. It was not like the others. And to make things more interesting, Grand Enchanter Fiona was no longer leader of the mages. A man named Alexius was now in charge of them, whom they pledged their loyalty to, and Alexius refused an alliance. Even better that Fiona swore she was never at Val Royeux. Or she just didn't remember being there. It was suspicious.

     Mira's suspicions were confirmed when she was slipped a note saying she was in danger and met with whoever wrote the note at the Chantry hall in Redcliffe.

     Now she was certain dangerous magic was afoot...and guessed that the rebel mages were being tricked.

     "Are you certain of that?" Solas asked her as they walked back to Haven, when she shared her worries.

     "Most certain. I don't know if we can trust that Dorian or what he said, but I know for sure that Alexius is up to something." she wrinkled her brow.

     "So what do you plan to do?" Solas stopped walking so Mira did as well and gaped at him. Varric and Sera turned to both of them, curious.

     "You mean to ask what do I plan to do with the mages." she stated, crossing her arms. "Do I go to our advisors and convince them to try again with the Templars...or convince them we should reason with Alexius." he nodded upon her words. She sighed.

     "What do _you_ think I should do?" she implored, rather a little frustrated. He leaned his head to the side and his eyes twinkled.

     "I don't really think this is a matter of what you should or shouldn't do." he said evenly. "More of a matter of how you should or shouldn't feel, 'Herald'."

     "Don't be cryptic, elf!" she snapped at him. He only chuckled.

     "Come on, cut her some slack, Solas...What are you going on about?" asked Varric.

     "Yeah, I'm curious, elfy." Sera crossed her arms and squinted at him.

     "You were there in Kirkwall, Varric." said Solas. "When the mage rebellion erupted. You know what they fight for, and what they fight against. Mira however...doesn't." he turned to Mira. "If your suspicions are correct and Alexius has something up his sleeve, you wonder what will be in store for the mages next if we stop his plan. You wonder if they will aid us in closing the breach...or if they will turn on you next. You wonder if you can trust them."

     Mira sighed. He was right. Then she nodded in agreement of his words.

     "The only answer is to have faith, dragon." he said. "For regardless of what we do, who we choose, or what will happen, you can be certain that the larger peril still lies ahead."

     "Closing the breach." said Mira. Solas nodded.

     Trust or no trust, faith or no faith, Mira could not argue with that.


	15. What Is Yet To Come

     Mira stood inside the Chantry in front of the War Council. Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana all waiting patiently for her to give her opinion. She had thought long and hard on it all the way back to Haven.

     She thought about her days in Skyrim. Fighting along side Ulfric Stormcloak for their freedom from the Empire. And she thought of her study of magic in Winterhold, all she learned of it, and all she had learned of the consequences of dangerous magic going astray. Then her mind flitted to standing atop the Throat of the World, reading an Elder Scroll at the Time Wound, and learning of the legacy and prophesy of the Dragonborn.

     Then finally, her mind flitted back to the first time she sat in the Ragged Flagon in Riften. Everything had been different then. She had been a different person. Not ready to accept who she was or her purpose. She had been looking for man named Esbern when she met Brynjolf, and knew so little about who she was or what dragons returning meant...and really needed a drink.

     He invited her to join his outfit, a band of thieves.  She proved she had quite the knack for picking locks and sneaking in the night, unoticed. She was far better at that than swinging a sword. And she wanted quick easy gold. And Brynjolf?...He was tall and handsome and she took to him like thieves took to shiny gems and golden septims.

     She loved him. And only he knew why she had come to Skyrim in the first place. She felt like she belonged there, in the Ragged Flagon, wearing that guild armor and that hood. But there was always something else that needed her attention. And when she truly realized her destiny, and became more than just a thief and a rebel...everything changed.

     Here in Thedas, no one knew of all she had been through in Skyrim, all she had seen...or all she had done. They met the hero. They met the Dragonborn. The 'dragon' that traveled to the afterlife itself, and defeated the World Eater. They didn't know of the woman before all that, and they didn't need to. What they needed was the hero.

     Without wasting a breath, she casually suggested meeting Alexius in Redcliffe to negotiate an alliance, and walked out if the room, leaving them to plan, and walking out of the Chantry.

      Then she stepped out into the cold wind and snowfall to stare at the sky. To most it must've been freezing. But not to her. Her Nordic blood made her feel like it was summer. She didn't mind the cold at all. But looking up she saw something that bothered her. The breach in the  heavens.

     She would play the game they wished her to play, and when the time came, and the truth came out and she knew who her allies were...she would close that hole in the sky, and go home. One way or another. Maybe when she closed it, it would suck her up inside and ship her home. She didn't know. But if she could end a war, stop the Thalmor, stop a fellow Dragonborn turned traitor by a Daedra, keep vampires from sending the world into eternal darkness, slay a World Eater...and countless other things...she could damn well close a hole in the sky.

     And close it she would.

     But not before she found out what would happen if she didn't.

     ...It was a frightening affair.

     They had traveled to Redcliffe once more and met again with Alexius. While she, Solas, Varric, and Sera, and the mage she met named Dorian, pretended to be offering connections and resources in return for Alexius' help...Leliana and her scouts snuck in the castle, and they surrounded the gaurds. They revealed to him that they were onto him and his schemes...but they weren't even close to understanding the length if it.

     Alexius possessed an amulet that allowed him to tamper with time. And whether he meant to destroy Mira or not, his amulet ended up sending her and Dorian forward in time...forward an entire year.

     Everything had become chaos. The breach had spread, opening the Fade competely to Thedas, and it in turn was destroyed. Her friends had been imprisoned. Corrupted by red Lyrium, a twisted version of the substance once used by Templars. The same substance she saw at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And it was killing them. And poor Fiona and her mages had been betrayed by Alexius.

     Alexius himself had been betrayed as well. There was a being he gave allegiance to, in return for saving his son who had been dying. A being called the Elder One. And this being, though indeed preventing Alexius' son from dying, used unholy blood magic to render him almost lifeless.

     When they fought their way through the castle to Alexius, he unleashed his magic upon them. And Mira saw first hand how dangerous he would become. She prayed to Talos for resolve, as she slayed him. Then she took his amulet and her and Dorian used it to go back in time before it was too late.

     ...There he was. Alive again. Alexius sunk in defeat as his forces were surrounded, and his plan was put to a stop. Back in the present, Mira stood over him and told him of what would happen to him, and his son, if he didn't stop his plan.

     He was put in chains.

     And there stood Fiona, alive and well and uncorrupted by Lyrium. Frightened. Unsure of what was in store for her and the rebels that took refuge in Redcliffe. Unsure of what Mira and the Inquisition planned to do with them.

     It was then that Mira made a choice. To allow them to go free as long as they agreed to help her close the breach. She put a hand on the elf's shoulder, and smiled at her. Willing her not to fear. For she saw what would happen if they did not succeed.

     What ever had happened before to this world, and why it had been in chaos before she came...it didn't matter now. If she had to, she would see to it personally that things were put right before she went home.

     And they would close the breach.

     ...Mira sat outside on a bench in the brisk night air at Haven. Everyone around her celebrated. She and the mages from Redcliffe succeeded in healing the sky. And it seemed that all was calm once more. Fires were lit and people drank and sang. Mira would've joined them, had she not been concerned with other things.

     Cassandra Pentaghast, the Seeker, joined her where she sat.

     "So it seems we have suceeded." said Mira evenly, as she watched the fire.

     "It appears so. Now it seems the Inquisition will need new purpose. And you will need to find your way home, I suppose." Cassandra sighed a little. "Solas has a small idea of where to start. As you still have that mark on your hand, he believes it may be the key."

     "It is likely." Mira agreed.

     "I will miss you." said Cassandra unexpectedly. Mira looked up at her. She had been staring at the fire as well and continued to eye it. There was a small hint of sadness in her eyes.

     "Are you sure you can't stay?" she asked Mira. "You could still be needed here."

     "Is that you're way of saying you do believe I'm really from another realm, shield maiden?" Mira asked with a smile. Cassandra...actually smiled.

     "I have seen you do truly wonderous things." she stated. "Things that hardly seem possible...and regardless of where you came from...I believe you were sent to us by the Maker to rescue us...when we most needed you."

     "And you also knew eventually I would have to return to where I came from." Mira noted.

     "Yes." she said. Then she sighed again. "Part of me still doubts, you know. Part of me still thinks you're lying and you'll stay." she smirked a little.

     Just then there was a rumble in the distance. Mira and Cassandra looked up to see a cascade of torches parading down the mountain.

     Mira stood up and sighed. Figured. She had a feeling it wasn't over yet.

     Templars marched on Haven.

     They were lead by the Elder One.


	16. Dreams Too Good To Be True...

     Brynjolf and Mira had been sitting in the Ragged Flagon for several hours. Sharing a bottle of Blackbriar mead as they sat at a table in the corner and talked. Most of the other guild members had either retired to their beds, or were out thieving of course, as turnouts were quite good now that their luck was back. Only Delvin was awake, and after Vex left, and he could no longer be bothersome to her, he turned in as well. And the barkeep began closing down.

     With the bottle of wine long gone, Mira moved to get up from the table.

     "Off to work?" Brynjolf asked her, a little smirk on his face. She sighed, and then she smiled a little.

     "No. To bed I'm afraid. I'm headed home. Haven't slept much in days. I don't think I have it in me tonight."

     "Oh come on." he grinned. "The night is young, lass...I have a house we can hit. Easy one. Has a prize I've had my eye on for a while." he stretched in his chair, arms going back behind his head. "I'll share the loot with you."

     Mira put her hands on her hips and shook her head, grinning from ear to ear under her hood.

    "Awhile, eh?...How long have you been planning the heist?" she asked him, a bit curious now.

     "Quite some time. I'd like to snag the lot before someone beats me to it." he said. Mira sighed.

     "You know I can't tell you no, don't you?" she said as she rolled her eyes. He chuckled.

     "Exactly. So let's get moving then." Brynjolf got up from his seat and followed Mira through the cistern. There was a secret entrance to the guild's hideout below the cemetary in the backlots of the city. They climbed up the ladder and Mira pulled the chain so they could sneak quietly out of the crypt and down the alley.

     It was always fun, sneaking into the night, under their hoods, with the stars, moons, and beautiful aurora above them in the sky being the only light. They snuck past the guards, not making a sound, getting right past those poor fools who never even knew they were there. Brynjolf led Mira through the alley way, picking the lock of the gate ahead of them, and led her quietly through the street to the house in question. Then Mira stood up and crossed her arms.

     "Oh you're funny." she whispered sarcastically. He stood up and leaned against the door. The house was Honeyside. Her house.

     "Oh but I wasn't lying." he smirked. "There's something in there I want."

     "Oh is that so?" she asked playfully. "I have lots of interesting treasures inside. Wonder what it could be?" she raised a brow.

     "Something unique." he said. "You can't find it anywhere else. Trust me, I've tried."

     She walked over slowly and pulled out her key, eyes never leaving his, and she unlocked the door.

     "Why don't I let you in and you can show me." she said.

     The lock clicked and the door opened. She backed inside, and he followed. It was dim inside the house. No torches lit, for she hadn't been home for some time. Brynjolf closed the door behind him.

     "So, where is this treasure you seek?" Mira asked quietly.

     Brynjolf didn't answer. At least, not with words. He answered by pulling her into a kiss. One hand he wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, the other he used to push back her hood and run his fingers through her blond locks. She didn't protest, she wanted it as much as he. She ran her hands up his chest, feeling muscle under the black leatherbound uniform he wore.

     It should've been a crime to taste something so sweet. Though there were alot of things that had hardened Mira over the years, her lips were soft...and her touch softer. Just as easily as she could pick a master lock, she began undoing the fastenings of his armor as he slowly led her over to the bed while he kissed.

     It seemed neither could get their armor off fast enough. She knew long before this moment exactly what treasure it was that he sought. And there she was, in front of him, naked, with every supple curve before him. She pushed him down on the bed, straddling him.

     She kissed him lightly, torturing him as she brushed her tongue over his lips, making him harder than he already was. Her hair falling over them, tickling his chest as she ran her hands up to his neck. She brushed against him. He could feel how wet she was. And he grew more desperate to be inside her, but was also entertained by the way she tortured him. He ran his hands up her thighs. By the gods, it felt lovely and soft.

     She pulled away a little. "It takes alot of guts to steal from the Guild Master." she said huskily, almost purring.

     He gripped her thighs and flipped her over and onto the bed. He pressed against her, feeling every bit of her underneath him and he gently brushed her ear with his nose.

     "I don't think it counts as stealing if it's already mine." he whispered. He heard her chuckle.

     "No, I suppose not...So what part is _my_ half of the loot?" she asked as she grinned.

     "This part." he said, then he propped himself up as he guided himself inside her.

     He heard Mira gasp in his mouth, probing with his tongue as he thrust. Then she moaned in his mouth. He liked the sound of it. It made him want to move faster, and push harder...but he restrained himself, feeling her tremble just a little with his slow and tantalizing movement.

     With one hand she tangled his hair and the other she gripped his arse, wanting...no, _begging_ him to thrust deeper. Arching up into his movement, making him pant. He was certain now, much more than before, that she wanted this moment...perhaps more than he...

     ...Every muscle in her body tightened underneath him, she was close to climax. She gripped tighter, digging her nails into him, and she felt like she would shake to pieces. Breathing heavier...until finally, he felt her cling to him for dear life. She let out a cry of pleasure.

     Brynjolf heard himself chuckle.

     She was reduced to a trembling, sweaty, redfaced mess and he loved it. And she wanted more. She whimpered as she nipped at his lip and it drove him mad. He moved faster, harder, held her tighter. He had been holding back...How long had it been?...And why did he never do this sooner? Why did he never take what he wanted? He did with everything else...Gold, jewels...they were only a lockpick away...But her? No, she was worth far more than that.

     He came, breathless, heart pounding in his chest.

     He rolled over onto his back, trying to catch his breath.

     "I love working with you." he said. She laughed, and snuggled up next to him. "I love-"

     He stopped himself. He didn't know why but...he couldn't say it. She lifted her head to look him in the eye. She didn't smile. All the laughter left her face.

     "You were going to say you love me." she said plainly.

     "I...uh..." the way she looked at him, he didn't know what to say.

     "Why not say it?" she asked. Then she propped herself up on his chest. "When you know that I love you."  
  
     His heart skipped a beat.

     "You do, lass?" he asked with a smile. She grinned.

     "Now say it...say you love me..."

      _Say you love me_...

     ...Brynjolf woke to find himself on the cold stone floor at High Hrothgar. It was still dark out, though judging by the color of sky, it would soon be morning.

     He wasn't in Riften, he wasn't at Honeyside, and he wasn't wrapping his arms around Mira...It had all been a dream. A glorious dream, but a dream nonetheless.

     And he wondered in that moment, as he lay there, feeling the chill in the air...if it would ever come true. If he would ever see her again.


	17. Warriors of the Dragonborn

     Two Nightingales, two Blades, and a strangely eyed human had traveled to High Hrothgar. There they met the Jarl of Windhelm and the Companions that waited. And there they learned of the final defeat of Alduin.

     It was not a dragon they spoke to. It was Arngeir. The one who spoke for the Greybeards. He had been reluctant to share information to the Jarl that abandoned the peaceful teachings of the Voice for the way of war. And he was reluctant to speak to even to the Companions of their Harbinger. But they would not leave. And when Brynjolf arrived with those he shared company with, it was all of them who pleaded with him.

     He spoke to his master, the dragon called Parthanaax. The dragon had told him of the return of the Dragonborn from Sovengarde. Told him of the spirits of Nord heroes that aided in battle, and of the final justice that would be done. And though the dragon lamented the loss of his brethren, he knew it to be inevitable. The prophesy fulfilled.

     However, the Dragonborn was not in Skyrim. Perhaps not even in their realm. Upon returning from her battle with Alduin, Mira was sent through a portal to he knew not where. Though the magic used was similar to magic he had seen in millennia past, magic used by the one called Herma-Mora.

     Serana found this intriguing. The last she had seen of Mira she was traveling with her to the island of Solsteim, the province of Morrowind where supposedly one called Miraak was. This Miraak, she said, served Hermaeus Mora in his realm of Apocrypha.

     She told them that Miraak, like her, had been Dragonborn, from a time long forgotten, who instead of fulfilling his duties as dragon kin, chose to serve the Daedra in his realm, and attempted to enslave the people of Solsteim.

     He was defeated, however Herma-Mora was not. How could one possibly defeat a Daedra? They are, were, and always have been. As natural to their world as the earth and air and the Gods themselves. Some inherently evil, some who seemed inherently good, and some who cared little for the mortal realm entirely. And while mortals ran frivolously like rats in a sewer to serve their Daedric Princes, they sat in their realms scorning the land of the living, the mortal realm of Mundus. Even in the era of which Mehrunes Dagon, a malevolent Daedra, attempted to enter Tamriel in physical form, he was not killed, but forever banished to Oblivion.

     Brynjolf did not care about any of it. All he cared was that Mira was gone, and he needed to find her. So he urged that they travel to Solsteim, and meet with these people called the Skaal, that had been enslaved by Miraak. For if it were possible for Miraak to thrive for centuries in Apocrypha, perhaps it was possible for Mira to be forced to thrive there too. Or had she gone there willingly?

     He laughed to himself in his thoughts. This wild goose chase he had been on. Scouring Skyrim for a woman he loved, and here he'd been too stupid to even tell her. And all because a Daedra told Karliah ill things were brewing with her gone? And here he was, riding to Windhelm with this glorious bunch, and in the meantime Thalmor plotted and...by the gods, everything else?

     He didn't realize he was being stared at.

     "Why do you laugh, Brynjolf?" Karliah asked him. He chuckled again.

     "You realize how crazy all of this is, don't you?" he countered. She nodded.

     "So foreign to you, isn't it?" she said. "Searching for our 'hero'...doing the heroic thing, instead of sitting back in the Ratway raking in coin."

     "Ah well, you were always the more religious one, lass...Involved in all your business...this is a walk in the park to you, isn't it?" he smiled a rakish smile, but she couldn't see it behind his mask.

     "No, it isn't." she said. "Surprised?"

     "Actually yes. Surpised you haven't given me another religious lecture." he smarted.

     He heard Karliah sigh. "It wouldn't do me any good. I know the only reason you're here is because you care for Mira. Whether you want to admit it or not. It's not that hard to figure out."

     He chuckled. "And here I thought I was good at keeping secrets."

     Though the others had been riding ahead of them, and did not hear their conversation, there was one who apparently did. The yellow eyed maiden called Serana. She reared her horse to hang back a little and rode next to them.

     "So you're in love with the Dragonborn, huh?" she mused. "Figures. That explains alot."

     Brynjolf could feel his smile turn into a scour.

     "Hey, I get it." she said. "Mira's the whole package. Beautiful, strong, talented, crafty...But obviously she doesn't know right? I mean, she never mentioned you, so..."

     "What are you driving at, lass?" he asked, unable to hide his annoyance. She smirked.

     "I'm...secretly a romantic. And people like Mira don't just grow on trees, so...All I'm saying is don't waste it if we actually _do_ find her." she sighed. "So...do they know you two are Nightingales?" she gestured to the others ahead of them. Both Brynjolf and Karliah gaped at Serana.

     "Hey, even if the others are too... _slow_ to see it, I'd recognise Nocturnal's symbol anywhere...Like I said, I'm older than I look." Serana winked than nudged her mount to ride ahead and join the others.

     Brynjolf could only shake his head.

     ...In Windhelm, they booked passage on a boat to Solsteim. There, everything was so foreign. Most of the island was covered in ash that still fell from the Red Mountain in Morrowind. The dark elves there seemed to be as dry and dull as the wasteland. Far from the greatness that Morrowind had been. And the land itself was plagued by all sorts of creatures that sprung up in the ash's wake.

     Ash spawn, creatures that resembled man, though were far from it. Their bodies made of molten rock, and the ash itself, that spewed fire at anything that got close. Flamed spiders, a dangerous creation, much like the frostbite spiders of Skyrim, though much more dangerous, especially to the Nordic race, whose blood was weak to the heat and flame. Many strange fauna and flora existed there in Solsteim, including the Netch. Docile creatures, if they were left alone, but if bothered, were fearsome with their tentacles...these creatures were just some of the oddities that waited for them across the sea on that island.

     They landed in Raven Rock, and after properly fed and bed down for the night, they followed Serana up north, where there was actually some snow and ice, to Skaal village.

     The Skaal were a Nordic tribe, though much different than men in Skyrim. They adhered to old ways. Traditions that existed since long before the empire conrolled Tamriel. They wore no armor. They didn't need it. They were harder, harsher, tougher than the milk-drinkers farther south. Instead they fought the cold with bundles of fur, and stared as coldly as the ice at the strangers that arrived in their village asking about the one called Skaal-friend. The one who was Dragonborn.

     It was their shaman who was willing to speak to them. A young woman. Blonde. Called Freja. Her father was shaman before her, she said. And now it was she who spoke for her people, and she who told them they knew not where Mira was.

     She was different from her tribe. She wore more modern Nordic armor. Her helm in the shape of a bear. Brynjolf imagined she could be a bear in human form. Quite fierce. Though there was kindness in her eyes, and she was willing enough to help.

     Even though she didn't know where Mira was, for it had been sometime since she left Skaal village, she knew someone who might. She explained that she and Mira discovered how Miraak had been able to travel to Apocrypha. Through something only known as a Black Book. She said she watched with her own eyes as Mira had been sucked into the book.

     But she also said she returned, and doubted she would ever go back. She killed Miraak, and returned to Skyrim. But there was a Dunmer in Tel Methryn who supposedly assisted Mira with matters pertaining to the books, and perhaps he would know more. And when they left to find this Dunmer, she asked to go with them. Though her people needed her, she felt she was right to travel with them. If the Dragonborn was gone, and there was any way she could help, she would do it. She said she and her people owed Mira their lives.

     So they travelled to the south eastern tip of the island, to Tel Methryn. It was no ordinary place either, to no one's surprise. It was a village made of...well, giant mushrooms. Perhaps they could be compared to the giant trees in Valenwood Brynjolf had heard of. Either way, they were certainly interesting. The Dunmer that lived there, named Neloth, a wizard, Freja said, resided in the tallest mushroom. His labratory was at the top.

     Without delay, Brynjolf flung open the door and stepped inside. To find himself being magically flung up to the top of the tower.

     "You're _not_ my assistant." said the Dunmer, almost in an accusatory tone.

     "Aye, I'm not." Brynjolf said bluntly, as he heard the others behind them being sucked up, floating up the tower themselves.

     "By Azura, there's _more_ of you?!" he raged. "What are you doing in my home?!"

     "We're looking for Mira Ironhide." said Karliah beside Brynjolf.

     "Mira...Mira..." Neloth tapped his chin in thought. "Nope don't know her. Now get out." he turned away.

     "Perhaps you know her as the Dragonborn. Or by a different name? She has blonde hair, blue eyes, a scar on her left cheek." stated Brynjolf. Neloth turned back toward him. He wrinkled his brow.

     "And if I _do_ remember her?...Who are you to her?" he asked them.

     "We are her allies." said Karliah. "We mean her...and you...no harm." she spoke calmly. He scoffed.

     "She's not here, I assure you." said Neloth. "If she _were_ , I'd have her copies of the heartstone research I requested." he said rather disgruntled.

     "You helped her research the Black Book." spoke Freja. "What did you find?"

     Neloth threw his hands in the air. "Nothing I really wanted!" he said angrily. "I made copies of the books we found, and then one day...they just disappeared! And I don't mean someone stole them. If so I would've hired mercenaries to gut the thieves and take back my work. No. I mean I woke one morning and the pages were blank. All that effort for absolutely nothing!" he raged.

     "And where are the Black Books?" Freja asked.

     "Mira has them." Neloth crossed his arms. "And I have no idea where she is."

     "Great! Just great!" Brynjolf through his hands up in defeat. He started pacing. "Another dead end! She's probably in one of those books, and we have no way to get to her!"

     "Calm yourself Brynjolf. We will find a way." Karliah chided. She was trying to reassure him, but it didn't help. All that traveling, all those sleepless nights...and he was tired, hungry, and angry.

     "Perhaps there's more of the books that she hasn't found." said Karliah to Neloth. "Do you know where they would be?"

     He shook his head. "If there are more that exist, I do not know where they are. As far as I know, she already searched all the locations I gave her."

     Brynjolf continued pacing as they talked...until something caught his eye. A staff in the corner of the room. The end of the stave was shaped like the head of a dragon.

     "What about a teleportation spell?" he asked suddenly, as he stared at the staff.

     "I doubt it's possible." replied Neloth. "The confines of Magika are usually restricted within this realm. Though it has been heard of to travel long distances, teleportation spells could not take us to Apocrypha. Only Dremora can travel between the realms in such a fashion, and even then, it's sometimes only in a spectral form." he sighed. "It's a nice thought at least...I'd _really_ like to have her research...But no. Without a Daedric artifact pretaining to Mora's realm of Oblivion...it's neigh impossible, I'm afraid."

     Brynjolf continued to stare at the staff. He couldn't take his eyes off it. His idea was daft but...maybe it would work.

     "What about something other than a spell...something stronger...not conjured by mortals." he mused.

     "Like a Shout...made by dragons." said Ulfric. Perhaps he had an idea of where Brynjolf was going with this. "No...Arngeir would not allow us to speak to Parthanaax." he said. Brynjolf turned to him, and the rest of them.

     "We have to try." was all he said.

     Delphine spoke up. "How do you know he won't turn traitor on us and kill us?" she asked. "Or what if trying to breach another realm through a Shout ends up killing us all?"

     Brynjolf chuckled. "I highly doubt the dragon would kill us...well not _us_. Maybe _you_."...she scoured at him. "But if he were bent on destroying mortals he's had plenty of years to do so. And if his Shouting ends up killing us...that's a risk I'm willing to take...Are you?"

     All of the people present considered his words carefully. How willing were they to do whatever it took to find Mira? How important was it to them, exactly? And if not finding her and bringing her back meant the destruction of their world somehow... was that the price they were willing to pay? If these people were truly loyal to her...or felt anything at all...was it worth it?

     Brynjolf already knew his answer. He spent too much of his time, his life, wasting away, never saying, never doing the things he should have.

     "What say you?" he asked them. Karliah was the first to answer.

     "You know my answer." she said, nodding. Affirming she would do it.

     "Aye." spoke Freja. "I am willing too. As I said, I owe Mira my life." she swore.

     Aela turned to Vilkas, and the two nodded to one another. And then nodded to Brynjolf. Then he saw Serana shrug and smile.

     "I've been through worse things than death." she chuckled. "I'm in."

     Ulfric eyed him for a moment. Then he nodded. As did Esbern. Delphine glanced at Esbern.

     "Crazy old man." she muttered. "Alright. I'm in. Alduin or no Alduin...the world needs the Dragonborn." she sighed and then nodded.

     Neloth stared at them all. "You're all absolutely daft." he shook his head. "Hmm...I _would_ like my research. I'll come too then...Always wanted to meet a dragon who wasn't trying to kill me." he mused.

     "Well...alright then. Back to Skyrim. To High Hrothgar." said Brynjolf with a smirk.

     "You know...we should think of a name for our little troop here." said Serana. "I was thinking...Warriors of the Dragonborn." she spread her arms as she sounded it out, and smiled. Brynjolf shook his head.

     "And here I thought _I_ was the one who never took shit seriously." he chuckled.


	18. The Storm Brewing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the Elder One meets the Dragonborn...so totally not canon lol and sorry for any spelling errors so far. They will be corrected soon.)

     Mira breathed slowly, savoring each breath...in through her nose, out through her mouth...It was as if everything around her moved in slow motion. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the soldiers rushing forward...blasts of fire, ice, and violet colored lightning eminated from staves...swords clashed with shields, and they sparked, as metal struck metal...the air thick, red blood contrast to white snow...and the sounds...the sounds of war.

     Mira exhaled. This was her element. This was where she belonged. In the heat of battle.

     It was curious how the battle came to be. Without warning, the soldiers pouring down the mountain, marching on Haven. A boy had pounded on the gate. Said he came to warn, to help. To tell them the Templars were coming to kill them, led by the Elder One. Mira followed with her gaze to where he pointed, at the peek above them. There, standing on it, next to a Templar Cullen recognized, was this Elder One. A demonic creature. Perhaps these...darkspawn Mira had heard of? Perhaps that was what he was?

     She didn't care what he was, for all too soon his army decended upon them. Cullen's forces did their best to fend them off the walls, as the mages poured their magic onto them. But only for a short time. Soon they made their way through the gates and overran the village.

     Cullen had ordered any who could not fight to take shelter in the Chantry, but not all were able to escape. Mira cut her way through the soldiers to keep them off the tribuches until they could fire upon them. It wasn't enough. So she ordered them to fire upon the mountain, bringing an avalanche down upon the majority of their numbers. It evened the playing field.

     For a time.

     Mira heard the roar of the dragon in the distance. A familiar sound.

     Their remaining forces gathered at the Chantry. Cullen said it was the only building that could possibly withstand the dragon's advance. But it would box them all in. With no escape.

     Mira took another breath. Bent over, hands in her knees, breathing heavy from fighting, covered in blood.

     Chancellor Rodrick was there. The poor sod had tried to fend off a Templar, and had been cut, deeply. The wound was probably fatal. Mira felt sorry for him then. He spoke of a hidden path, leading out of the Chantry and through the mountain to the north. Perhaps if the dragon could be distracted, Cullen said, they could make their escape through it.

     "I don't plan on just distracting it." she said to him. "I plan on killing it."

     "I've seen archdemons." said the boy softly, who was called Cole. "I've been in the Fade. That's what that is. And if you go out there..." his voice was full of worry. "That's what the Elder One wants. He wants the Herald." he said to all of them.

     "Well let him have me then." Mira stood up. "I'll kill him too." she began to unstrap her sword once more, and adjusted her helmet over her nose.

     "You can't be serious!" said Cassandra.

     "I am." Mira turned to her. "Fighting dragons is what I do...and it seems lately killing demons is on that list as well." she turned back to Cullen. "Lead the people out, Commander. I will see what I can do about that beast."

     Cullen nodded, perhaps concerned, perhaps frightened, but Mira wasn't sure what his expression meant.

     "But if you fail...what of your escape?" he asked then.

     "I will find a way." she replied. "I always do." she smirked, then turned and left the Chantry.

     Cassandra followed after her, and so did Sera and Varric.

     "Are you bloody daft?" she heard Sera shout behind her. Mira shook her head as she pulled her sword back to wack a nearby Templar with it, sending him flying through the air. She heard the familiar thwack of arrows loosed behind her, and saw the Templar beside her fall. They kept moving.

     "I have seen what she can do." she heard Cassandra say. "If anyone can stand against that thing, it's her."

     Varric chuckled. "Fight a dragon...with a dragon." he mumbled.

     "Wait, so you really _are_ one like they say?" Sera asked as she fired another arrow.

     "Concentrate on fighting!" Mira shouted.

     They tore through the enemy to one of the remaining tribuches. She aimed to fire it at the mountain above Haven, hoping she would draw the dragon's attention. Well, it certainly worked. She locked in the firing mechanism when the dragon approached, then drew her sword. It reared to fire upon them...and the blast was unlike anything she had ever seen.

     She and the others ran to dodge it, but were seperated in the blast. It knocked her off her feet. She stood up shakily, coughing, the smoke surrounding her, making her eyes water. She couldn't see inches in front of her. She drew her sword.

     The smoke started to clear, and out of it, stepped the dragon. It's black scales intimidating, gleaming in the fire light. She could see it's eyes glare back at her own.

     "Drem yol lok, Dov." she greeted the dragon as she held her sword. It did not greet her back, merely cocked it's head to the side and then roared at her. Interesting. So dragons in Thedas did not speak Tinvaak of the Dov in Skyrim. She then heard steps behind her.

     Mira turned to see the Elder One.

     She lowered her sword an inch or two and glared at him. Looking him over.

     "You're not as frightening as everyone makes you out to be!" she spat at him as she sneered. The creature leaned his head to the side at her words. Then he spoke with a cruel, unholy voice, that seemed to resound with the very evil he was.

     "You are not Thedosian, mortal." he mused. "How...interesting." it was his turn to sneer. "Though where you came from does not matter to me...You possess what is rightfully _mine_ , regardless."

     Mira grasped her greatsword with both hands and pointed it at him.

     "Do enlighten me creature." she spat.

     He smiled coldly. "You're understanding is not required...if you happen to gain it...consider yourself _blessed_." his voice was low, and as cold as his stare. Mira did not waver in his presence, but she did have to admit she was rather curious of the meaning behind his words.

     "Then _bless_ me." she mocked. "So I can kill you that much quicker."

     The Elder One carried a curious orb in his left hand. It enflamed red with what could only be described as the inherently evil power he possessed. It sparked and then...so did her mark.

     She gasped in her pain and fell to her knees, dropping her sword. She could not move. Somehow he was controlling the mark, immobilizing her. It flared it's green flames, ripping through her skin. She had never felt pain like this before.

     She could hear the dragon circling, growling behind her.

     "Know me...Know what you have pretended to be...Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus!" the creature exclaimed. Mira struggled, trying to get up. "You _will_ kneel!" he boomed. The magic he used forced her to the ground again.  
      
     "I have come for the Anchor." he said coldly. "The process of removing it...begins now."

     The power eminated fom the orb, and it pulled her hand to him, it seemed. He was trying to remove the mark from her hand. Pain ripped through her. She grunted. But she would not scream. Would not give him the satisfaction.

     "It's _your_ fault, Herald." he said. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts...I crafted to assault the very heavens."

     Mira struggled and stood again, as pain continued to flow through her, feeding her anger, her bloodlust.

     "You obviously weren't careful enough to keep it from slipping through your fingers!" she snapped.

     His face wrinkled in digust at her mocking. "And you have used it to undo my work! The gall!" he growled.

     The mark on her hand flared. But it would not leave her hand. The more the power surged, the more it enflamed. As if it were resisting of its own accord. Or was it Mira doing so?

     The Elder One stepped closer, until he was close enough to snatch her up by the arm, and there she hung in the air, eye to eye with the creature.

     "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of this world in person, mortal!" he sneered. "Instead I found only chaos and corruption...dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. But no more...pray that I succeed, Herald. For I have seen the throne of the gods. And it was empty!" he threw her down, and she hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. "The Anchor is perminant. You have spoiled it with your stumbling!...But trust that I _will_ give this world the nation, and God, it requires!"

     Mira stood up at his words. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her sword, but between her and her weapon stood the Elder One. And on the other side of her, the tribuche laid in waste. Useless.

     "And you _will_ die!" he bellowed.

     Mira laughed in his face.

     "That is where you are wrong, creature. It will not end here. This is _far_ from over!" she yelled at him.

     "Strun...Bah...Qo!" she shouted at the sky.

     The sky roared, and almost in an instant it blackened, thick with cloud. Lightening struck around them. The Call of the Storm erupted at the beckoning of her Thu'um. A force that would strike any living thing close to her. The others were far away by now, and safe from her Storm Call, but the lightening struck the Elder One and his pet. He cried out in anger as his dragon tried to sheild him from the strikes...and in the distance, she could see that it had struck the mountain, sending snow and ice and boulders down upon what remained of Haven.

     "What have you done?!" screamed the Elder One. "What are you?!"

     Mira cackled. "I am Dovahkiin!" she smiled. "You're worst fucking nightmare!"

     She grabbed her sword and bolted as the snow closed in around them.

     "I shall see you soon!" she shouted as she ran...and then jumped, as the avalanche overcame them.  
 


	19. Heavy Burdens and Changing Winds

     Mira had jumped to get away from the blast of snow, and fell down through what appeared to be a mineshaft. Snow and ice tumbled down, barricading her in.

     She managed to free herself from the rubble and crawl through the cave. Then she stretched out for a moment, catching her breath, leaning against the icy wall. It was dark, she could hardly see, but eventually her eyes adjusted to see the entire cavern encased in sheets of ice.

     The cold of it felt heavenly on her aching bones.

     Whatever the Elder One had done with the mark, it made her ache all over. She weakly sat up a little against the wall, and pulled off her helmet. She didn't remember it being that heavy. Her sword was heavy too...and in that moment, alone in the cave, with the others far away, and the Elder One most likely gone, fleeing Haven...she wept.

     Just a little. Just a few tears escaped. A moment of weakness for no one but the gods to see.

     How would she be able to kill such a creature? Was it even possible? No one ever told her much about darkspawn, for so little was known about them. Even Blackwall had little to say, even though his order was bent strickly on the purpose of defeating those creatures. And the Elder One said he had been around for centuries. A thousand years. The lifespan of a dragon. Was he immortal like one?

     ...And his dragon. It was nothing like anything she had seen in Skyrim.

     It did not speak to her. Perhaps it couldn't. Perhaps it had lost it's language after being buried for so long. The others had told her their ancestors, centuries ago, worshipped dragons like that one, just like Mira's foolish race. They called them the Old Gods. They locked them away, and built Chantries, and worshipped the Maker and his bride.

     And one of those 'old gods' returned as an Archdemon, tainted by the Elder One. And that...was certainly different than Skyrim.

     She had been cocky. Marching out to face that dragon like that. But in truth, the others needed to see her bravery, if it would convince them to take advantage of it and escape. Getting the people out safely had been forefront in her mind.

     And as much as she conferred otherwise, in truth, the Elder One did frighten her. He was a being unlike anything she ever encountered. And the power his orb held over the mark...it was curious.

     Mira wiped the subtle tears from her cheeks and pressed on, sure that there was a way out of the cave somehow. It was dim, so she scrounged the floor for anything she could burn, finding a loose piece of wood, and using her fire breath on it. Holding it like a torch, she pressed forward, the weight of her armor, heavy on her shoulders.

     Mira would've thought by now she would be used to carrying heavy burdens. Afterall, had she not done so in her homeland?...Carrying the prophesy of the dragons' return...carrying the weight of soldiers into battle. The burden of pain, of the person she was before she realized her purpose.

     She would find a way to endure. She promised that she would not rest until Thedas was safe, didn't she? Just like at home, there were families here, children. That needed protection. And now it was from this Elder One. Mira wanted to be home right now, but that would have to wait. She had this world to help still. It wasn't over yet.

     She encountered demons in that cave. Her mark sparked with interest. Perhaps whatever the Elder One did to it, he inadvertently made it stronger somehow. As if a voice whispered in her mind, willing her to do so, she raised her left hand. The magic surged forth, and she was now able to open a rift out of thin air, and pull the demons through it, and close it with a flick of her wrist.

     Interesting.

     She managed to find her way out of the cave and into the blizzard. She could barely see mere feet ahead of her, but it did not deter her. This, like battle, was her element. She was weak...but still she pressed on, trudging through the snow, for what seemed like hours.

     As she headed north, towards the faintest light in the distance, she found she had plenty of time to wander in her thoughts. Daydreaming of past heroes of her homeland.

     She even had time to think about her travels before coming home to Skyrim. How when she was no more than a child, she ran from Riften, sneaking onto a trader's caravan, headed south to Cyrodil. She hid in the back of it, for days. Half starved in fact, and half expecting every moment to be caught.

     She finally was. The Khajiit, a tabby looking fellow, found her in the back as she was tempted to steal an apple. Dirty, sweaty, pale, and hungry...he took pity on her, and gave her all the apples she could eat. She broke down and told him the truth, that she escaped, and ran from the orphanage, and the horrible woman who cut her face. She hated leaving her friends behind, but she couldn't stay there any longer. And she cried. Sobbing all over her half eaten apple.

     The Khajiit, who was called Kha'tri, hugged her, squeezing her tight, comforting her, and it seemed the fur on that big cat's arm provided a well enough handkerchief of which to dry her tears.

     He became like a father to her, teaching her all the tricks of trade. Even taught her to sneak, and steal properly, _without_ getting caught. And he taught her how to fight...

     ..."Hold it straight." Kha'tri said firmly as he paced back and forth, clawed hands laced behind his back. His tabby tail flicked with his motion. He glared.

     Little Mira was holding a sword...well, struggling to, perhaps was the better phrasing. It was too heavy for her. She was very small for a Nordic child, and turned beetfaced red trying to hold the thing up.

     "You cannot wield a blade if you cannot even lift it." he said evenly, his voice thick with his Elsweyrian accent. Mira almost dropped the sword. Shaking, she struggled to lift it back up.

     "I can't do it!" she grunted. Kha'tri hissed.

     "Yes you _can_." he affirmed. Then he turned to sit down on a stump next to the campfire. "...A few more minutes and you can put it down." he relented as he picked up a dagger to flay a piece of salmon. Mira groaned. "Stop whining." he muttered.

     "Oh, let Mira be." said Khara, his wife, as she came over carrying a bundle of firewood. Her blonde fur seemed to glisten in the sunlight. Mira always thought she was the prettiest Khajiit she had ever seen. She was the one to give Mira her name. She was the more gentle one. The mother.

     "She has to _learn_ , Khara." he said. "She may be a good little sneak thief...but she will also be a warrior one day."

     "And how does one know this?" Khara asked, raising a brow, and setting down the branches in her arms.

     "One has a feeling." he mused. Then he nodded to Mira, signaling that she could put down the sword and come and eat supper. Mira did so, happily. She curled up, legs crossed underneath of her, by the stump Kha'tri sat on, as he handed her a piece of cooked fish.

     "I don't want to be a warrior." she said to him between bites. "I want to travel and trade like you." she looked up at him. She could see his fangs as he grinned.

     "You say that now, little one." he said softly. "But one day, that might change."

     "But why?" she asked him, wrinkling her brow. He chuckled.

     "The winds always change current. Changing the way they move the sands. And when the wind changes...so must we change direction." he handed her another piece of fish.

     That night they bedded down in their camp, and Khara tucked Mira into her bedroll. Mira fondled the scar on her face.

     "One's scar reminds her of where she came from, yes?" Khara asked quietly. Mira nodded.

     "What did Kha'tri mean about the winds changing?" she asked her. Khara gently ran her claws through Mira's hair, combing it away from her face.

     "Kha'tri means that everything changes." she ran a finger over Mira's scar. "But we have memories. Memories to hold onto once everything on the outside is different." she said.

     "I don't think I will change." Mira said with a hint of sadness in her voice. "I don't ever think I'll be a warrior like he says I will. I can't even hold a sword."

     Khara chuckled. "You will get bigger. And it will get lighter." she beamed. "Sleep little one." she cooed, bading little Mira to fall asleep...

     ...Her sword did get lighter. As she got older, her burden became easier and easier to bear. Most days...but not at the moment. Not as she trudged through the snow in Thedas. Right then, the sword strapped to her back was heavy. And so was her heart. For all she tried to hide it, in that moment, being alone out there in the snow...She prayed to the gods she could bear it again.

     The light ahead slowly grew larger and larger with each passing hour. With what bit of strength she had she Thu'umed the sky, to clear away the falling snow for a bit. And for those moments she could see...then, finally, she began to hear voices in the distance. Though she had to strain to hear them. They almost sounded familiar.

     "It's her!...It's the Herald!" she heard a faint voice shout excitedly ahead of her. She almost wanted to drop to her feet then, exhausted. Instead she pulled her sword from her back and leaned against it like a walking cane.

     Her breathing was heavy. Her heart raced. Her vision was starting to blur...she was feeling faint.

     But she refused. She willed it away, and stood there, as Cassandra and Solas approached. They lead her to the camp ahead, where what remained of Haven's people waited, frightened. Lost.

     ...She sat on a bench, listening to the others argue. They had no where to go. Haven was destroyed. And so few had managed to make it out. Just the fact alone that not everyone made it through weighted Mira down. She had seen it so many times before. A people on the brink. Just when they thought that they had succeeded...closing the breach, putting an end to its reign of terror in the sky...something new threatened.

     Mother Giselle sat next to her, her eyes full of kindness...but also sadness. These people needed hope, she said. And Mira agreed. But knew that they would not make it by hope alone.

     She tried to still her sudden anger as she stood up, leaning on her sword, using it to pull herself up. She walked over to where the advisors had stood arguing. She stamped her sword into the snow.

     "It's hopeless." she heard Leliana mumble as she sat on the ground, hugging her knees, face down in them. Mira stood there in silence, looking around at all the people. Battered. Broken. Then she heard a soft voice behind her as it started to sing. A song of their people. A tender song of hope.

Shadows fall

And hope has fled.

Steel your heart

The dawn will come.

______________________

The night is long

And the path is dark

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come.

______________________

The shepard's lost

And his home is far

Keep to the stars

The dawn will come

______________________

Bare your blade

And raise it high

Stand your ground

The dawn will come  
       
     "It is not hopeless." Mira said to them.

     A soldier knelt before her. She bent down on one knee, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Looking into his tired eyes.

     "For you live." she said to him. Then she stood again. "For _we_ live." she strapped her sword to her back once more. "And as long as we live, though it may seem we have no where to turn...there is still hope."

     She turned and walked away.

     A fire burned within her. The winds were changing again. She could feel it. For that moment, she did not know where the current would take her, whether to warm sands or cold and barren wasteland...but perhaps there was hope in the wind. Perhaps there was hope in the change.

     And once more her sword was light enough to bear, at Solas' words. When he spoke of a possible place to take refuge.

     A placed called Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a little headcanon backstory for you. Will be expanded on much more later. There is alot more to tell about the kind of person Mira used to be before she accepted her destiny as the Dragonborn hero. Shall we see how this goes?)


	20. Seek...Join...the Dragonborn.

     The 'Warriors of the Dragonborn', as Serana now affectionately called them, traveled from the isolated island of Solsteim, back to High Hrothgar in Skyrim. And they did this cautiously.

     Word had slowly spread of the Dragonborn's disappearance. Bandits were attacking the highways more frequently, and vampires were slowly coming back out of hiding. Serana had informed Brynjolf and Karliah of their troubles back at Fort Dawnguard. Isran, the leader of the band of vampire hunters, feared that they would eventually try to finish what Harkon started. Serana had doubted it would be so, but there was always the possibility that they would reform. And try to take Auriel's bow.

     Serana had no idea where it was. It had been entrusted to Mira for safe keeping. Where ever it was, she was sure it was safe, but with Mira gone, they could not use it against increasing vampire attacks. And more over, what mattered was that Mira was no longer in their realm where she was safe, Serana relented to them.

     This was added to the already present danger of the Thalmor acting against the interests of Skyrim's people. Ulfric imagined that there was still the possibility that they were involved in Mira's disappearance somehow. It seemed logical. With the Dragonborn gone, she could not be influential to who would be chosen as the new High King or Queen. And would not be able to influence the peace the new leader would negotiate with the Empire. Peace that they needed if they were to continue needed trade and commerce.

     All of this was meant to happen when the Emperor arrived in Skyrim. As a sign of peace between Ulfric and Jarl Elisif, they would meet with Titus Mede, along with the Dragonborn, and all high electives of the free province, and conveine the moot. And without Mira, they feared it would end badly.

     And somehow, all of this was connected to the foreboding message from Nocturnal...possibly. And Brynjolf mulled it around in his head. Murder, politcal intrigue, Daedric influence...and all of it being connected, and somehow an unavoidable catastrophe that waited if Mira did not return.

     Once again Brynjolf climbed the 'seven thousand steps' up the mountain to the top of the Throat of the World. Gods only knew how many steps there really were, for he certainly did not feel like counting them. They trudged through the cold and snow, that was actually preferable to the ash and dust back in Solsteim. The air was crisp, and the sun was setting. At that high of an elevation they could see everything...for miles upon miles.

     How many times had Mira saved their asses? And now it seemed they were returning the favor...hopefully.

     Once again they opened the doors of the ancient stone fortress, and once again they were greeted by Arngeir, who seemed as old and wise as the stone itself. He stood with his hands folded and hood pulled over his head, as they shared with him all they had learned...and all they planned to do. He did not take to the idea of it at all.

     But that was not for him to decide, he said, intriguingly. If it could even be done. That was for the ancient dragon at the top of the world to say.

     "Lok...Vah...Koor!" The Greybeard shouted to clear the sky, clearing the path up to the mountain's highest peak. It was no easy trek. Ice Wraiths awaited, a test of will of sorts along the way. Together they overcame them easily enough. But that would be nothing compared to what they might face, if their plan suceeded.

     Parthanaax was as old as the mountain he perched on. From the time of Alduin himself. He served the World Eater in his youth, was a general in the dragon's army. His scales were worn. His voice filled with knowledge of the ages. He spoke the mortal tongue easily, though his words seemed twisted to fit the purpose of a dragon's way of thinking. 

     "I doubt you have brought these joor for simple tinvaak, Arngeir." stated the old dragon, his voice slow and even, his words deliberate. "What is it you want from me?" he asked them. His brow wrinkled. He stepped down off of his perch, the ground trembling underneath him, making them wary. "And why have you brought dragon slayers?" 

     He glared at Delphine, who instinctually started to draw her sword. 

     "You did not think I would recognize the armor you wear, Blade?" the dragon seemed to pur, his eyes sparkling with interest in the encounter. Without wasting any time, Brynjolf walked up to the dragon, putting his hands up.

     "We come peacefully." he said to him.

     "It is true." spoke Arngeir. "They come in the name of the Dragonborn. These are the people I told of her disappearance, Master." 

     Parthanaax leaned his large head to the side and eyed Brynjolf.

     "I see." he said. His gaze flitted to the others, then back to Brynjolf. "Greetings, then." he said to him.

     Brynjolf rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...drem...drem yol lok." he said to the dragon.

     Parthanaax chuckled a little. "You speak our tongue?" he asked.

     "A little...Mira taught me. That sums up what I know." Brynjolf shrugged a little.

     "She is why we have come." said Karliah softly from behind him. "We seek a way to get to where she is...We were curious if you could help with that."

     "You believe your world to be lost without your Dovahkiin, joorah." Parthanaax stated.

     "There is more war brewing." said Ulfric. "And Mira is the key to it's undoing." he folded his arms. The dragon turn his attention to him. 

     "You believe that her return will bring peace to the chaos that will erupt." said the dragon. Ulfric nodded, folding his arms. "And how do you know that it is not ordained? That the events occuring were not meant to happen?" he asked.

     "I knew it." said Delphine. "He's not going to help us! He probably _wants_ the Dragonborn gone!" She drew her sword, but Serana quickly put up an arm across Delphine's chest.

     "Cool it, Blade." she snapped. "The dragon has a point."

     "He served Alduin! And you don't think he would plot against us with Mira out of the way?!" Delphine raged. "She's the only one who could kill him!"

     "Drem, fahdon se dovah...peace, my friend." spoke Parthanaax evenly. "I will gift you with tinvaak I shared with my fellow dov." He sat on his haunches. "I did serve my brother in battle millennia ago...but he is no more. And I have no care to fight...It was I who gifted my kiin with knowledge needed to defeat Alduin and...I have outgrown my 'evil' nature. I ask you what I asked her, dragon slayer. Which is better? To be born good, or overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

     "None of us are born completely good." said Brynjolf.

     Parthanaax turned his gaze back to him. Eyeing him for a moment. Brynjolf didn't know what he searched for in his gaze, but he found something, Brynjolf supposed.

     "You seek words of power to carry you to the Dovahkiin. Words of power I can provide...but at your own cost, fahdon. For I cannot guarantee your return." 

     "I accept that." said Brynjolf. "If we find Mira, we _will_ find a way."

     Parthanaax nodded at the confirmation. "Allow me a moment to meditate upon the words." said the dragon.

     ...Brynjolf did not know what would happen, or where this would lead them, but...if it led him to Mira...

     The stout dragon stood and sucked in a breath. 

     "Yah...Aav...Dovahkiin!" Shouted the dragon.

      _Seek...Join...Dragonborn._

     A great wind rushed upon them, sweeping them up into the cyclone. The portal...beyond which, they would find her...

     Into it they flew, almost without warning...flying up, then falling down, quickly...rushing toward the ground. All of the sudden the sky opened. There was sunshine. No wind, no snow. Only dust around them where they landed...

     ...Where they landed...it wasn't Apocrypha.

 

     


	21. Long Lost Friends

     Mira held aloft the ornate sword of the Inquisitor. The crowd before her cheered. She accepted the leadership, and the task now before her, willingly. She told Cassandra she was honored, and would fight for them, for her gods and theirs.

     She would not waver.

     She walked in the main hall of the rundown castle at Skyhold. It would take a lot of repairs, and they would need a lot of rebuilding. Supplies, food, medicine for the wounded, a larger force. For no doubt that was certainly not the last they would see of the Templars, or the Elder One. 

     And there were other matters at hand. Leliana relented it was possible that he orchistrated the assassination of Celine, the Empress of Orlais, something Mira had seen in the alternate future in Redcliffe. If this were to happen, no doubt it would only fuel the current chaos and state of war Thedas was in. The Inquisition needed to act. And Varric would return soon. And he would be bringing company, Leliana stated. And no doubt this would be a concerning matter as well.

     There was a rumble outside. It almost sounded like an explosion. Immediately Mira pulled out her sword and dashed outside, expecting someone to be attacking the hold.

     She and Cullen led the way as they clambered down the steps in the sunlight, to see what had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassandra approaching as well, sword drawn. The soldiers gathered, encircling someone.

     "Please!" someone pleaded. "We're looking for someone called the Dragonborn."

     "What do you want with the Inquisitor?!" demanded a soldier, aiming his blade at someone Mira couldn't see.

     "What is going on?!" Mira barked. The crowd parted.

     Mira sucked in a breath. Her heart skipped a beat.

     There, surrounded by soldiers, stood people Mira hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime...The dust settled. People backed away. And Mira almost cried when she saw their faces. This couldn't be real.

     It was Brynjolf, and even Karliah. Mira looked at them, tears welling up. Then she saw Serana, Freja...Neloth? Why, even Jarl Ulfric...and Delphine and Esbern, and Aela and Vilkas...They were _there_. In Thedas...but how?

     "It's alright." Mira said to the soldier. "They are friends." He lowered his sword. "By the Nine...Brynjolf...How is this possible?"

     "Color me all the shades of the aurora, lass." he said as he approached. "You're alive." He looked as if he almost wanted to cry as well, as if he never thought he would see her again. Then he did something she least expected.

     He grabbed hold of her, wrapping his arms around her, and kissed her fiercely. Hugging her tightly.

     "I never thought I'd see you again." he whispered. Mira pulled away, and looked into his eyes. Then she looked around her. Everyone was staring at them. None of them knew what to make of it.

     "Come." she said to them. "Let us go inside."

     ...Still dazed at the fact that some of her closest, and dearest friends from her realm were there, at Skyhold...and Brynjolf's unexpected, and heavenly kiss...Mira sat on the steps below the throne in the main hall of the keep. Brynjolf sat on one side of her, Karliah on the other, and Serana stood in front of her, crossing her arms and smiling.

     "So you're _not_ dead, and you're _not_ in Apocrypha, obviously, and...you lead an army? That's...that's interesting." she smirked. "How the hell did you get here?"

     Mira chuckled. "I have no idea...What of you?" she gestured to the group. "How did you end up here?"

     "We met your dragon friend." answered Brynjolf. "He used a Shout. And here we are." he chuckled. "Not before we scoured the entire country looking for you though."

     "So...you are all from another realm, like Mira then?" asked Cullen. "Or all of you are completely insane...but I doubt that is the case."

     He, Leliana, Josephine, and Mira's new traveling companions, that included Cassandra, Solas, Sera, Vivienne, Cole, Dorian, and Blackwall, all gathered with them in the hall, curious of who these people were.

     "Oh we are _sane_ , soldier." Serana smirked. "But this...all of this is totally _insane_." she turned back to Mira. "So, are you going to introduce us?"

     After a lengthy introduction, Mira implored as to why they were in Thedas. It was Jarl Ulfric to relent of the increasing violence in Skyrim, the plans of the Thalmor, and chaos and war that would erupt if she did not return to Skyrim...very grave news to hear.

     They all told her of the trying task it was to search for her, even traveling to Solsteim, and along the way, recruiting Freja and Neloth. And there they all were. And Mira hung her head. How in Oblivion were they going to get back? And what about all that was happening in Thedas?

     Ulfric sighed. "Presuming that time passes the same here as it does in Tamriel, we may have a few months at best. The Thalmor will not act until the Emperor arrives in Skyrim. We have until then to figure out a way back."

     "Provided there _is_ a way back." said Serana.

     "And here, there are just as many problems. A darkspawn trying to open a portal to a demon realm. Leading an army trying to wipe out any who stop him...assassinate an Empress, create chaos...and I have pledged to lead these people." Mira sighed at their looks.

     "What's a 'darkspawn'?" Serana asked. 

     "A very bad thing." Mira replied.

     "In the meantime, perhaps we can be of help here." said Karliah. "Mira has saved our own world many times...all of us that you see are loyal to her. Perhaps that's part of what led us here in the first place..." she wrinkled her brow in thought. Mira wasn't sure why. "Gather her allies..." she muttered.

     "It is getting late." said Leliana gently. "Perhaps we should discuss this more in the morning. We should see to suitable provisions and quarters for Mira's allies." she said to Josephine, who nodded in agreement.

     "I cannot speak for all but..." began Aela, "I will be glad of anywhere I can lay my head. We are all very tired." the others nodded in agreement at her words.

     Mira sat there. Stunned beyond belief. Still unable to wrap her head around everything that just happened. Everything she learned. Josephine led everyone out of the hall, directing them to empty guest rooms and the service wing, informing them of the armory, stables, and tavern at the keep. She made suggestions of where they could bed for the night, and eventually all of them parted ways to lay their heads wherever they liked. And Mira was almost alone in the hall. With the exception of Brynjolf and Karliah, who insisted on hanging back for a moment.

     "There is something you need to know." spoke Karliah most urgently. "It's the reason we are all here." she glanced at Brynjolf. He cleared his throat.

     "The others don't know." he said. "But we learned you were missing because dear Karliah here...spoke to Lady Luck." he raised a brow, sounding sarcastic as usual when referring to Nocturnal.

     "I was wondering why you were wearing her armor." Mira smiled. "I never thought I'd _ever_ see you as her agent again." he chuckled at her words.

     "Me neither." he said. "But according to...our Lady," he glanced at Karliah, "bad things will happen if you don't return. I'm not sure if her warning had anything to do with what we learned of the Thalmor but...she instructed us to 'find your allies', find you, and bring you back."

     "That's all she said?" Mira asked. Karliah nodded.

     "That's all she _would_ say." she said. "And if our Mistress is involved, it is possible that it goes far beyond elves and imperials warring over Tamriel. I smell the smell of Daedric influence. Why else would our Lady grow concerned?"

     "What, you think Dagon would try to enter Tamriel again, or something?" Mira raised a brow. 

     "I don't know. All I know...is that you are needed in Skyrim. The only way we will get to the bottom of this is if we can find some way to get you home, so you can don your armor and speak to her. She will not speak to us. We have no answer."

     Mira stood up and stretched. "Alright then. We should get some rest. Can't think with tired minds."

     "I'll find some place dark and quiet." Karliah smirked. "Somewhere that feels like home."

     Karliah walked away into the shadows, like the true Nightingale she was.

     Mira cleared her throat. It was only her and Brynjolf then, alone in the empty hall. Mira didn't know what to say. Neither did he, she supposed, for they were both silent for a moment. They stared at the floor.

     "I missed you." he said quietly.

     "I missed you too." she said. "...Is that...is that why you..."

     He stood up, stretching just as she had. 

     "It's hard to explain...We'll speak tomorrow, lass." he said. He wouldn't look at her. Embarrassed? Confused, just as she was? He walked out of the hall then, leaving her alone there in her confusion. She stared for a moment at the large door he had walked out of just seconds ago.


	22. First Impressions pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds himself intrigued by a yellow eyed woman, Blackwall finds some kinship in a huntress, and Cassandra gets confused, embarrassed...and complimented by a warrior.

     Cullen Rutherford found it difficult to wrap his head around all that had happened. From the very beginning in fact. One moment he was rallying soldiers at the remnants of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the next he found himself staring wide eyed at a tall, blonde woman with scant armor covered in strange runic markings, wielding a giant sword.

     At first he thought she was Qunari, until the dust had settled, the fighting had ceased, and he saw that the horns protruding from her head were only a helmet, and she was indeed human. A strange new goddess, perhaps? Whatever he thought she was, he was grateful she was on their side, for the way she faught the pride demon that climbed out of the Fade, how easily she killed it, was intimidating enough.

     Then, at Haven, learning this woman was something called Dragonborn. Rumors spreading rapidly throughout the village that she was a dragon in human form, or something of the like. She swore up and down it was nothing so fearsome, that she was born human, and never was, nor ever would be, a dragon, she said. But she certainly wasn't normal.

     The way she valiantly stood up to the Elder One and his Archdemon dragon, so that he and the others could lead the people of Haven to safety. That was not normal. But sitting and sharing a bottle of wine and discussing their battle wounds was, at least. It had been comforting, and a needed distraction from what they would face in the days to come. It seemed Mira proved well enough that she was indeed human, with flaws, scars, and memories. And Cullen and Cassandra had both agreed that though Mira was strange, she was just what they needed, when they needed it.

     Brave, strong, opinionated, but honest. And willing to listen. This was the 'nordic' woman that bore the mark that could control the rifts. And now she led the Inquisition. And she brought friends.

     If it was impossible before to believe that Mira was from another realm, Cullen certainly believed it now, as more from her homeland had inexplicably appeared there at Skyhold. They had searched far and wide for her, they said, in dire need of their Dragonborn hero once more. Speaking of beings called Thalmor that meant to wage war on their land. But as much as they needed her, she also needed them. For there, in Thedas, a darkspawn meant to undo the world, and cast it into darkness. Mira had seen such the future wrought if they did not defeat this Elder One.

     So these warriors of Skyrim agreed to help in any way they could, until they could find a way to get back home and stop their own problems. The warrior called Ulfric Stormcloak seemed most useful to Cullen, as he was a soldier, that commanded militant forces in Skyrim. The two stood in the tower where Cullen took up residence, pouring over the map of the areas surrounding Skyhold.

     There were several areas worth putting up watchtowers and sentries, and a few sections of the keep that needed fortification. Though the keep itself seemed in well enough condition to handle a small attack if there was one, and the drawbridge of the main gate still worked just fine. Provided someone oiled the chains and fixed the broken gear on the left side. A job fit for Herrit, the blacksmith.

     Ulfric suggested possible weak points that needed garrison on the north and south ends, and offered to take a few soldiers and investigate possible entrances and exits that were yet to be discovered, as they had only just arrived at Skyhold a few days before. A fact that Cullen had carelessly overlooked, though he hated to admit. He nodded to the warrior as he left Cullen's office, and the Commander himself looked over the trail of papers on the desk once more, leaning against it, wiping the sweat from his brow that appeared in his concerns.

     He felt eyes upon him, and looked up.

     "Sorry if I scared you." said a dark haired woman with intriguing yellow eyes. She had been introduced as Serana, a companion of sorts to Mira, riddled with sarcasm, evident by her tone the day before.

     "I'm not easily frightened." he replied to her, folding his arms as she approached the desk.

     "Is that so?" she raised a curious brow, smirking a little as she spoke.

     "Yes. Though I find I'm quite curious at the moment." he admitted. "Where do you fit in all of this? How do you know the Inquisitor?"

     "Mira? Long story." she chuckled. "Got a few hours to hear it?"

     Cullen nodded. "My time is free for the moment, it seems. I could use the distraction."

     "You're serious?" Serana chuckled. "I was joking, you know. In short, she rescued me from my own family. She's been my only friend for...well, a long time."  she shrugged, then leaned against the desk beside him. Cullen couldn't help but take brief note of how attractive she looked.

     Unlike Mira, she was shorter than him, and looked more befitting of woman from Thedas, dressed semi practically for the cold season, a dark cloak covering her shoulders. Though her corset revealed some of her feminine form, and Cullen strained for a moment to keep his attention on her face. She was rather appealing. He hadn't realized how he had been silently staring until he noticed her expression.

     "So I'm guessing people around here don't look like me, do they?" she asked. Cullen cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in front of him. "They...don't have yellow eyes?" he looked back up at her words, seeing her smirk.

     "No, they don't. Forgive me, my lady. It was rude of me to stare." he said to her. She laughed.

     "No one's called me 'lady' in a very long time." she smiled. Cullen nervously rubbed his shoulder. What was it with women in Tamriel and titles? Mira absolutely hated being called anything other than her name. And no one adressed Serana as a lady either? Had these people never heard of etiquette?...It couldn't be so. Ulfric was introduced with a title. Earl of Windhelm, Mira said, though she used another word for it. Perhaps in their land, titles were only reserved for nobility, and common courtesy was a foreign construct.

     "So, is there anything I can do around here to help?" she asked suddenly. "It seems it will be awhile before I get home. Might as well make myself useful." she shrugged, looking down at the papers sprawled out on the table. "Hey, cool. You guys write in the same language..." she picked up one of the papers. "Maybe you need a steward. You're... _really_ disorganized."

     "I haven't had time for organization," he relented. "Not since Haven. Even then, well, let's just say I'm not as eloquent as Lady Josephine." he rubbed his neck once more.

     "Well, then, Sir Rutherford." she folded her arms. "I think I'm just the organized person you need then." she smiled. He tentatively smiled back, not wanting to admit aloud that he found her company rather bothersome. He didn't know how to explain it. The sudden feeling of wanting her gone, how she made him uncomfortable, but at the same time, how he wanted her there. He wanted to know more about her, wanted to pry and ask why her eyes were yellow. Wanted to...

     He sighed. This was going to be a long day, wasn't it?

* * *

 

     Her name was Aela. The Huntress, she was called. Blackwall could see why. Bearing Nordic armor similar to that of Mira Ironhide's, green paint slashed across her face in an angered manner, carrying a bow, that she used fluently, better than any archer he had seen in Thedas.

     He had heard stories, fairytales at best, of apples knocked off a soldier's head by an arrow, the occasional rumors of trick shots fired in the dark, always told over a bottle of stout ale in a tavern, or the like. But it was intimidating up close, as he leaned against the doorframe of the barn, watching the archer outside strike the target, then aim and fire once more, splitting the previous arrow in two. He wagered she could even give Sera a run for her coin, who was quite talented with a bow herself.

     The way her brow furrowed over her pale eyes as she concentrated, red hair fluttering in the light breeze, breathing in and out ever so steadily. She was quite handsome when she did so.

     She had been unexpected company the night before, wandering into the barn where he lay his head to rest. Apparently she had been uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in the keep, same as he. It wasn't surprising. She didn't look to be the type who would waste away in a castle in any small amount of comfort. She looked like the kind of woman who preferred wandering in the woods, hunting. Just like her title revealed.

     But she had tripped over where he lay, her eyes having not adjusted well to the dark, and she fell ontop of him. They had been awkwardly nose to nose.

     "I'm sorry." she had said. Then she quickly moved to get up, and all he could do was chuckle.

     "No harm done, miss." he said, then propped himself up on his elbows to gawk at the woman who had fallen in his lap. "Better you falling on me than a Qunari. Not that I mind Qunari women...but they're heavy." he smirked.

     She leaned her head to the side.

     "What's a...Qunari?" she asked quizzically, wrinkling her brow.

     "A giant with horns." he said, grunting as he stood up. "Fierce warriors, they are. Do you not have those in Tamriel?" he asked. She shook her head.

     "No. We do have giants. Though they're not warriors. But dangerous still. I'm called Aela." she held out her hand to shake his. "Aela the Huntress, they call me. And you are...Blackwall, I'm told?"

     He nodded.

     "I'll leave you be, then." she nodded. "I'm sorry to have awoken you, warrior."

     "No bother. I don't mind the company." he told her. She smiled a little.

     And the next morning she stood outside, near the stables, as she relentlessly socked arrows into a wooden post. It was barely daylight, and few around the keep were even awake yet to see the spectacle.

     "Ought to teach the boys that." he said to her, as he watched her loose another arrow. She glanced at him. "No doubt the lads Sister Leliana employed could learn a thing or two from someone like you." he uncrossed his arms and walked over.

     "And what of you?" she asked him. "How fair you with a bow?"

     He chuckled. "I couldn't shoot a bow to save my life, I'm afraid." he shooked his head. "Better with a shield. Better with blocking those things than loosing them." he gestured to her quiver.

     "You're not like the others here." she said suddenly. Blackwall smirked a little. Neither was she. As much as he had gotten used to Mira's brazen attitude, Aela was different. Calm, and collected. Carefully studying him.

     "How so?" he asked, completely curious of her meaning, trying not to smile.

     "The others here act like they've never seen a true warrior. But you...you're not afraid of me."

     "Should I be?" he asked, unable to keep from cracking a smile. He had to admit, she was fearsome, but he imagined he could handle her well enough in a fight. Though tangling with her on a battlefield was the last thing on his mind. He had other amusing ideas.

     "I wouldn't..." she trailed off from whatever she was about to say, and just stared. Her eyes widened. "I...have to go." she said suddenly.

     She turned to leave, heading for the door across from where they stood, that led to the dungeon of the keep. Odd place for her to go, but perhaps it was because she didn't know her way around. Neither did he, honestly. He himself was barely accustomed to the layout of Skyhold. He sighed, folding his arms as he stood there in the yard, eyeing the door Aela went through. He probably made her uncomfortable....

     ...Warden Blackwall did not know that it wasn't discomfort in his presence that made Aela leave. Though that was part of it. But not for reasons he could ever imagine.

     As soon as the door closed behind her, and she was alone, she felt the change. She couldn't control it. Not like she could in Skyrim. Here in Thedas, it seemed that Aela was far from Hircine's influence, and far from whatever powers allowed her to stave off her transformations. And when she stood there, talking to Blackwall, she had felt the hair raise on the back of her neck, and felt her heart beat wildly. And if she could not control her powers in this land...could she control her beastly urge to kill?

     So she fled, and took the form of the beast, feeling her bones crack, skin covering in fur, taking shape, taking her true form. A werewolf. The last thing she remembered before transforming to jump down to the pit below, and run on all fours through the opening in the dungeon, running out into the snow, was suddenly wishing she had listened to her shield-brother.

     It was too late now, as the beast saw only red...clambering in the snow, through the pines, sniffing the air for something...or someone...to kill.

* * *

 

     Cassandra Pentaghast had been wrought with worry ever since the attack on Haven. Her heart filled with sorrow for their losses, and a bit of hopelessness as they had nowhere to turn, and few who would support the cause of the Inquisition.

     She had worried that Mira was lost as well, that she had been slain by this Elder One and his dragon. They had waited and waited, until they saw her wandering in the snow, looking no better than a corpse. At first Cassandra thought she _was_ a corpse, until she got close enough to see otherwise. Close enough to see the look in Mira's eyes, and for a moment, the smallest look of defeat.

     But it didn't deter the Dragonborn. Even though she had not defeated the dragon, or the darkspawn, she still gave the people of Haven hope. She believed they would find a way. It was uplifting to Cassandra. And when the Last Dragonborn accepted the mantle of Inquisitor, her worries ceased for the moment. Mira Ironhide would not abandon them, not when they needed her. Her mark, and her strength. It seemed she truly was a gift from the Maker.

     But now, there were more people from Skyrim, though they were nothing like Mira.

     A man named Esbern, and his companion named Delphine, who called themselves Blades, the servants of the Dragonborn. Those who aided the dragon slayers over the centuries, a noble profession and tradition, though they were the last of their kind, as the Blades had long since been disbanded when the dragon called Alduin was thought defeated, Esbern explained. For a time they served the Emperors of Tamriel, but their duties were replaced by a group called the Penatus Oculatim. And their legend had died out along with the Dragonborn, and eventually dragons themselves became legend. Until Alduin returned, and Mira arrived in Skyrim, revealed to be the savior destined to defeat the world eating dragon.

     Both Neloth and Karliah were Dunmer, the race of elves Cassandra heard Mira mention. And she was right, they were indeed different from the elves in Thedas. And they were different from one another as well. Neloth was brash, and rather irratating. Frustrated with the fact that he could not use magic in Thedas, which was most bothersome as he was a skilled wizard by trade, he said. But Karliah was calm, and quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Supposedly she was so stealthy she had frightened none other than Sister Leliana the night before, up in the loft by accident. But she was soft spoken, and helpful to Leliana, the sleuth had mentioned.

     Jarl Ulfric, as the man was called, was frighteningly tall, and intimidating in his black fur overcoat. But he took it upon himself to assist Cullen with his military background, as well as the maiden called Serana. The one called Freya, with her fearsome bear armor, disappeared into the tavern. Aela had been around the keep somewhere, talking to Blackwall, Cassandra thought. But she was gone now, when Cassandra walked down from the keep into the courtyard, finding a quiet corner to read...and...what was the other Companion's name?

     "What are you reading?" asked a male voice from behind her as she sat. She looked up to see a tall, black haired figure,  with warpaint that covered his eyes. Grey armor with an interesting insignia, looked like a bear or wolf. He stood at attention, arms folded behind his back. Vilkas, that was his name. He peered curiously over her shoulder at the book. She snapped it closed and stood up.

     "It's...nothing." she stammered, hiding the embarrassing book behind her back.

     "It's clearly a book." he raised a brow, his voice sounding strange with his accent. It wasn't like Mira's, but it was certainly different than anything she had ever heard. He stepped toward her.

     "History?...Or poetry?" he asked. Cassandra could feel herself start to blush. It was neither. In fact, it was nothing of the sort. She felt like a silly girl just then, instead of a skilled warrior, caught reading smutty literature. She cleared her throat.

     "Not exactly." she muttered.

     "Something you're writing, then?" he asked as he slowly drew near. "No need to be ashamed, warrior. Life shouldn't always be about thrusting a sword or bearing your shield." he smirked a little.

     "You're not like Mira then." she said. "That seems to be her answer to everything. Though not a bad thing when you're fighting demons." she relented.

     She didn't notice as she spoke that he was close enough to reach out and snatch the book from her hands. Which he did. Cassandra huffed in her displeasure.

     "She's alot like my brother." he said as he poured over the book, flipping the pages. "He uses his fist, and not his head. Too much sometimes. I, on the other hand, tend to think first..." he chuckled suddenly, probably realizing the content of the pages he flipped. "Did you write this?" he looked up.

     "No." she folded her arms. "Give it back, please. This is...rather embarrassing." she started to fidget. She tried to grab the book, but he pulled it away as he read more. This man was infuriating. She hated him already. If she hadn't left her sword up in the armory, she would've brandished it in his face right then.

     "Certainly more...detailed than the Lusty Argonian Maid." he said, reaching up once more to keep her from grasping the book. "So...you like..." he looked at her once more.

     "Smutty literature." she mumbled, crossing her arms.

     "Don't worry." he chuckled. "You're secret is safe." he finally handed her the book, and she snatched it out of his hands and glared for a moment. Then she sighed.

     "It's terrible, I know." she admitted. "But it's magnificent, and this one...I can't seem to put it down." she looked up, noticing the humor in his features as she rambled. "Pretend you don't know this about me." she glared.

     She turned to walk away, but stopped when she heard his gentle words.

     "A woman like you shouldn't be reading it, you should be _living_ the words on the pages, Lady Cassandra." he said.

     She turned around. "A woman like me?" she asked, wrinkling her brow in confusion. Did he call her a harlet or something?

     "Aye, a woman like you. Stubborn...and beautiful." he said as he smiled. He seemed to mean it well enough. No sarcasm, no...Wait, he called her beautiful?...She started to blush again.

     "I...uh...thank you." she stumbled over her words like a child. She silently chastised herself for her behavior.

     Vilkas nodded, then simply walked away. Leaving Cassandra to stare after in confusion. On her life, she never thought anyone would think someone like her was beautiful. She never tried to be. Looks were the least of her worries, especially at times like this. Maker help her.

     She had no idea what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here's a bit of sparks. Will definitely expand on these encounters, and how the characters feel. Alot of headcanon of course. But why is that surprising...


	23. First Impressions pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera's prank on Josephine doesn't go as planned, Solas gets distracted by a Nightingale from Skyrim, and the Last Dragonborn feels some of the pressures of, once again, being in control of the fate of the world, all while Skyhold still awaits Varric's arrival.

     Someone decided to pull pranks on the Inquisition. Muddled up Leliana's study, put jars of bees in the soldiers' barracks, and at the moment, this individual was attempting to precariously position a bucket of water above the door to Lady Josephine's office. This individual was an elf named Sera, who was quite proud of how her antics went off without a hitch so far.

     Everyone around the keep was so serious. What with everything that happened at Haven. Sera understood why. It was a terrible thing that happened. The lives that were lost in the battle, and the state of terror everyone had been in, at the hands of the nasty fiend called the Elder One, and the Red Templars that joined him. She had been scared to death as well. But she didn't want that to stop her. She wanted to liven up the place a bit, so she did it the best way she knew how. She played some pranks. And it was fun too. Ought to teach people to not be so serious, she hoped.

     She had just gotten the bucket positioned correctly when the door opened. It was none other than Josephine, who knocked the bucket down, splashing them both with water. That was a complete and utter fail. Josephine broiled with anger.

     "You!" she fumed, pointing her finger. "You're the one who's been meddling with things around here!" she put her hands on her hips. Sera would've ran, but it was too late now. She'd been caught red handed. Josephine looked down at the mess then groaned.

     "Don't get your stuffy panties in a twist, luv!" Sera smarted, as she watched Josephine walk over to her desk, in search of some cloth to dry herself with.

     "Panties in a...Maker help me!" Josephine gasped. "Do you _never_ take anything seriously, miss Sera?!" she towelled her hair dry, gaping at the elf in disbelief.

     "That's the problem. Everything's too serious around here!" Sera stated tursly. "Nobody's having any fun!" she walked over to the desk as Josephine gingerly sat down. There were papers scattered haphazardly all over the desk. Odd for a prim and proper noble to be so careless. Was something bothering her?

     "This is the Inquisition! Not a carnival! Demons falling from the sky, then an Elder One, corrupt Templars, a possible assassination attempt on the Empress of Orlais? And if you haven't noticed, a band of people occupying Skyhold that are _from another realm_ , Sera!...What do you think you are doing?" Josephine's eyes widened as she watched Sera shove papers aside to flop down on the desk.

     "What?" Sera folded her arms. "I moved your papers. Don't be so stuffy."

     Josephine groaned again and put her face in her hands.

     "I _do_ take things seriously, Lady Grumpy Face." Sera taunted. "But that's how you bigwigs do it, is writing your letters and planning your plans, right? Me, I don't wear fancy clothes and huff all day, griping over 'what color the drapes are', an' such. The world could end tomorrow. So I take not being so serious, _very_ seriously." Sera leaned her head, as Josephine looked up at her. At first she didn't know what to say.

     "I...I am sorry." she said. "I...guess you meant well, I suppose...I _think_."

     "Don't hate me for it, Grumpy Face. Most nobles are stuck up tits. But you're not so bad. At least you _care_ about the world. You're here. With people trying to fix the bad things. You gripe and write your papers to fix things, not make things worse for the little people. That's a good thing."

     "Are...are you saying you actually... _like_ me?" Josephine raised a brow. Sera fiddled with a piece of paper.

     "Well, yeah. I guess. I mean, I like you better than the other fluffs around here." Sera shrugged. "You may be a bit stiff, but I'd sock an arrow for you though." she affirmed.

     "Then couldn't you, perhaps, find a less abrasive way to be friendly than soak me with a bucket?" Josephine asked slowly. Sera chuckled.

     "Maybe...What's that?" she asked suddenly, pulling a piece of paper out from under a pile before Josephine could stop her.

     "That's just...it's nothing." Josephine sighed as Sera held up the paper.

     It seemed the Antivan diplomat wasn't all business and stiffness after all. The drawing wasn't anything businesslike at all. It wasn't even a map. It was just a drawing. A beautiful and detailed sketch of what Sera imagined could've been Josephine's home, or something. A beautifully drawn house with a balcony and vines snaking up the side of it. Trees surrounding, and birds flying past. Clouds in the sky. A depiction of a quiet summer afternoon.

     "This is pretty good. You did it?" Sera inquired. Josephine nodded. She almost seemed embarrassed about it. Why should she be? Not every day could someone draw something like that on a whim, from memory. Sera gingerly set the paper on the desk and eyed Josephine.

     "So you're pretty, _and_ you can draw pretty things." Sera counted off the things with her fingers and smirked. "Now if we could unstuff you're stuffiness...and get rid of your grumpy face. Then you'd be perfect all the way around." the elf shrugged.

     Josephine gaped in confusion. "Perfect? For what? I don't...get it." she cocked her head to the side.

     "I don't know." Sera giggled. "Somethin' I suppose." She hopped up from the desk and turned to leave.

     "You're not that bad either, miss Sera." she heard Josephine say. She turned back to see the raven haired, tan skinned human noble had stood up from her chair and nervously picked at her nails as she spoke. "I...apologize for my agitation. I hope you understand. I just..."

     "Hey, it's alright." Sera smirked. "We both got soaked, right? You're a bigwig, and I'm not, but we're both wet. We're even."

     That time, Sera left for good. Not wanting to trouble, or irritate Josephine further. But she hoped that wouldn't be the last time she got to talk to her. She really liked her. Even if she was a stiff. She just...well, she highly doubted Josephine liked her back. At least not like that, anyway. Oh well. At least she didn't get chased out of the keep with a broom or something. She sighed in thought as she wandered away...

(chapter cont. below)

* * *

     Solas gaped at the Dunmer called Neloth. The dark elf had heard from the Dragonborn that Solas was the 'reigning expert' on matters of the Fade, and was very intrigued by this 'fade realm', wanting to know all about it. He even mentioned the plausibility of it having a connection to the realm of Oblivion, of which he explained was very similar to the Fade in some aspects, and could be a possible explanation as to how Mira ended up in Thedas. Though Solas was happy to discuss all of this, finding it mildly amusing, he couldn't help but find Neloth's attitude pompous, and downright infuriating.

     Though he was able to elaborate on how the magical process worked in Tamriel, much more fluently, and in more detailed manner than Mira. He claimed to be an aficionado of Dwemer constructs in Tamriel, the Dwemer being the extinct race of dwarves he heard tell of making notable discoveries and technological advances. Though less mystic and more technical than the way Mira had mentioned it, Neloth told rather the same tale of the Dwemer being foolish creatures, who squandered their knowledge and power in attempt to obtain immortality unconventionally, rather than complete ritualistic trials of sorts, seeking favor of the gods...or whatever it was he said. He stopped paying attention when a small figure walked by.

     She descended the staircase swiftly and silently, black cloak fluttering behind her. Rather majestically, Solas mused. He rarely saw mortal creatures move with such grace. It was Karliah, as she had been introduced, and, like Neloth, she was a Dunmer. And not just any dark elf. She was the creature who ironically gained Mira's friendship by shooting her with, presumably, the black ornate bow hung over her shoulder. She stopped walking and stared at Solas and the other Dunmer, an interesting expression of humor mixed with cynicism making her lavender toned eyes sparkle.

     "I see you're satisfied then, Neloth." she said fluidly, as she slowly approached. "Your peeked curiosity outweighs your lack of magika." she folded her arms. Solas had no idea what that meant.

     "Yes, it seems it was worth it to let you barge into my home. To trudge up that blasted mountain and let Parthanaax shout me here." Neloth's words were fully stocked in sarcasm. "It's _so_ eventful." he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, boy. Does _anything_ happen here? Dragons? Trolls? Frost giants chasing the cattle? Anything other than sunshine and soldiers scuffling about?" he folded his arms.

     "Should've been here a few weeks ago, my friend." Solas smirked. "It was...too eventful. This moment in time is the eye of the storm, I'm afraid."

     "Ah. Well. This conversation has exhausted me. I'm going to find a place to lounge." he turned to leave, most lavishly, like an Orlesian noble, jutting his azure nose in the air. Solas had to keep from snorting with laughter, as the elf had become exhausted by hearing his own voice. He never shut up, assuming most of the conversation they shared. And Solas also found it fascinating that the dark elf was unphased, and downright bored, even with the magnitude of having been transported magically to another realm. It was comical, in fact.

     Karliah still stood, arms folded, shaking her head a little.

     "I can't stand him." she muttered. Then she turned to Solas. "I am sorry...Solas, is it?"

     He bowed a little. "Indeed."

     "Charmed." she said, perhaps a little tursly. Or perhaps it was a personality defect among Dunmer to have such an unpleasant outlook on life, judging by the fact that their homeland was destroyed.

     "The...'spymaster', Leliana, informed me of you. I imagined she did so because we're both elves." she raised a brow.

     "That is a possibility." he stated evenly.

     She looked him over. "It seems our only common feature is the name." she assessed, her eyes meeting his once more. He smiled a little. And swallowed nervously.

     "Still, you word it more pleasantly than your Dragonborn." he mused.

     "How do you mean?" she asked.

     "She...said I was...'pretty for an elf', when we met." he replied, and Karliah chuckled.

     "You must excuse Mira, I'm afraid. She is entirely too blunt at times." she sighed. "She wasn't always so..." she trailed off.

     He had been staring. Like a complete fool. He cleared his throat and turned to the desk behind him, leaning against it. Then he sighed a little, moving to turn around, aiming to apologize for his behaviour. But when he turned back around, the Dunmer was gone. She had disappeared, without a single noise to be heard. As if she were a spirit from the Fade. Unnaturally stealth in nature. Though it couldn't have been magic. Supposedly the people of Skyrim could not use magic in Thedas. She was...just that quiet.

     And now, oddly, Solas was quite embarrassed. He scolded himself. He would have to be more careful with his actions. And not let himself be so easily distracted. For there were plenty of important matters to concentrate on, if things were to unfold precisely the way he intended, for they hadn't so far. And allowing himself to act foolishly, to suddenly let his newfound attraction to Karliah get the better of him...that was simply not one of those important matters, was it?

     Of course he should still apologize. Perhaps he would at a later time. At the moment, he simply continued to stare at an empty doorway in thought.

* * *

     Trolls, frostbite spiders, vampire thralls...Draugr or Dragon Priests...Mira would've picked any one of those things at the moment. It would have been preferable. Those she understood. Most were simple problems that could be dealt with using her sword. But it was a bit more difficult to stand in the room offsetting Josephine's office, now dubbed the War Room, with Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana. Mostly difficult because these problems now at hand weren't merely going to go away by the Dragonborn Shouting or stabbing them away.

     Though Josephine had entered the War Room a bit bedraggled, rather than her usual proper looking self, she was in good spirit, excited over the letters she recieved. Upon arriving at Skyhold she had immediately motioned to contact any possible allies the Inquisition might have. A good move when they were short in numbers and short on supplies. Most of their ration had been used on the rough journey from Haven to Skyhold. So she had gotten her trusty quill in hand and put her talent to use, and had actually recieved some replies that day.

     Cullen noted on the progress being made with fortifying the keep, and thanked Mira for suggesting Ulfric's assistance. He even made a small comment on Serana's usefulness, on which Mira raised a brow. Wasn't surprising though, really. She had a feeling Serana liked the man. If it would be anyone she took a liking to, Mira was grateful it was Cullen. He was a good man. After everything Serana had been through, Mira was glad she was in trustworthy company.

     But he also had more to say about the Templars that had joined forces with the Elder One at Haven. It was no surpise that he knew them, having been a Templar himself once. And he personally knew the man named Samson, that commanded the Elder One's army. Cullen seemed very apologetic, in a way. Ashamed that the men he once called brothers were now at the hands of a darkspawn. It took a little convincing him that it was no fault of his, and Mira agreed that any information they could gather on the Templars would be vital.

     Leliana was more interested in the threat on the life of the Empress of Orlais. It was very possible her life was still in danger, as only they had knowledge of her assassination. It was one of the things Mira gained information on when she was sent forward in time in Redcliffe. And it was likely it played a key element in what the Elder One had up his sleeve. It made sense. What better way to cause chaos and cast the world in darkness than by 'cutting the head of the snake'. It was exactly what the Thalmor planned to do in Skyrim. It was a tactical move, in honesty. Meant to stir anarchy and rebellion through inherent lack of leadership and stability.

     Leliana suggested that rather than warn the Empress, who would likely not believe them anyway, they were better served by catching the culprit. She had intercepted an invitiation to Empress Celine's ball held at her palace in Hilamsharal, and believed that was where the assassination would take place. Then she advised that Mira give her and the others some time to arrange the Inquisition's invite to the affair. And casually thanked her for introducing her to her Dunmer Nightingale companion.

     Mira looked down at the map before her. This would now be the norm for her, such meetings like these, to assess the days' progress. All the places had been marked, noble houses that were allied in Ferelden and Orlais, and people who would possibly ally in exchange for favor or influence. And all of this information swam around in circles in Mira's head. She stood there in the War Room, long after the others had left, studying every inch of the map, grateful it was written in a language she could read. Making mental note on such similarities...and differences...between the world of Thedas and her homeland.

     She wished she was there now. It was easier there. She had never been an Inquisitor there. But was it really that different? When everything she had done shaped and molded the people, the world around her. But she had never been in control of her own destiny in Skyrim. It was fated, preordained millennia ago that she would rise up and defeat a World Eater. That she, and she alone, would be forced to control the fate of Tamriel.

 _When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,_  
_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped,_  
_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles,_  
_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,_  
_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,_  
_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn._

     The prophesy of the Last Dragonborn. Written on Alduin's Wall. A fate she couldn't escape. But here, in Thedas, it was different. Alduin's Wall did not matter, it was gone, long gone, and only a memory there. There, in Thedas, the only thing that mattered was that there was a mark on her hand that closed the breach to the Fade realm, a mark that the Elder One had meant to possess.

     Mira could've ran. She could've opted to find a way home the minute the breach in the sky was closed. But she didn't and she wouldn't, because that was not her. Not anymore. She was not just the sly little thief, raised by Khajiit, who only wanted to hide in the shadows. Like her father had said she would be, she was a warrior. One who people looked to for hope. She could not choose to be the 'dragon in human form', as people called her, but she could choose to step forward, rather than back away.

     But it didn't mean she wasn't exhausted already. And it didn't mean she could ignore all the other unanswered questions in her heart. The most immediate, her brother Nightingale, whom by his and Karliah's determination, made it possible for her companions to travel to Thedas. The man that Mira loved as well, who still refused to talk to her.


	24. There's A Full Moon Out Tonight

     The Master room of the keep, though unkempt as it was, seemed a feasable place for the leader of the Inquisition to lay their head. It was warm, dry, and it had a bed. Though Mira could only gape at it.

     It was far nicer than Honeyside, and much different than sleeping in a tent, of which she had done alot of since arriving in Thedas. But things were different now. She wasn't just some soldier, or mercenary for hire. Being Inquisitor would go far beyond being Thane of the city of Riften, according to her advisors. It was a position of power, and influence, and she would hopefully be seen as more than just a stranger in Nordic armor, more than just a warrior rumored to be a dragon. She was now their leader. And as the Inquisition grew in power, so would she.

     She huffed at the large, soft bed as she began to remove the plates of metal covering her shoulders.

     There was a noise behind her.

     She turned to see none other than Brynjolf had come up the stairs, and she watched as he walked over to a couch nearby, and flopped down on it. Crossing one leg over the other, and folding his arms behind his head.

     "By the gods, lass. You went from Honeyside to a damned castle." he chuckled, looking around the room. Sighing, Mira only removed her boots, then moved to unstrap her bracers.

     "You're going to have to move." she stated. "That's where I'm sleeping."

     He raised a brow. "Here? You've got a bed that could bloody well fit five people."

     "It's too soft." she said, then removed her belt, along with the iron fitting and chainmail attached to it. Then she put her hands on her hips, in expectancy. Brynjolf sighed and got up, then flopped down on the bed. As unwilling as he had been the day before to share his thoughts, and as distant as he had been all day from her, she couldn't help but be disturbed by the fact that he was there now, in her room, as if nothing had happened, and they weren't both in an entirely new realm surrounded by practical strangers. Mira crossed her arms.

     "You owe me an explanation, thief." she scoured, then rolled her eyes at his sigh. "Come, Brynjolf, it's me. Not a stranger from this land." she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "No one here knows me better than you."

     "Is that so?" he asked, and she nodded.

     "Are you going to tell me what's on your mind?" she asked him.

     "Probably not." he replied, and Mira wrinkled her brow in her frustration. "What is there to say, lass?" he relented. "This...all of this," he gestured to the large room they were in. "It's a bit different than I imagined it would be. You're not held captive by some demon, not trapped in Apocrypha..." he sat up, and they were face to face. "The others had their reasons for finding you, Mira, but me, all I wanted to do was bring you home. But it seems you're needed here...You've got more important things to worry about here than me, lass. Best to let what happened between us go."

     Brynjolf moved to get up, but Mira wouldn't let him. She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. That wasn't fair for him to have his say on the matter, but not let Mira have hers. And she had grown quite used to giving her opinion as of late.

     "I'm not going to let it go, Brynjolf." she affirmed in an irritated manner. "All this time I've been trapped here in Thedas, trying to figure out why I'm here, wondering if I'd ever get home, wondering if I'd ever see you, or Karliah, or any of the others again..." she sighed, realising how angry she was starting to sound.

     Before another word could be spoken, before Mira could change her mind, or Brynjolf could protest, she put a hand up to his scruffy cheek and kissed the redheaded thief. He didn't mind at all, and in fact, kissed her back. Silently confirming what had always been between them, though neither ever discussed. There was always something more important. Though at the moment, with only the two of them, the candles lighting the room, and the full moon outside to brighten the dark, there was nothing more important.

     At that moment, everything else could afford to wait.

     Brynjolf pulled her down ontop of him, and it seemed whatever tension between them dissipated. For that moment, there was nothing else, no worry, no trouble, no impending doom looming over their heads. Mira was certain this would not be the last time they discussed their feelings, but for that time, it seemed a better option to discuss them through touch.

     Something of which Brynjolf handled quite well. As if he knew exactly what she needed. He always did know how to put a smile on her face. It wasn't any different now, the way he wrapped his arm around her, ran his fingers through her hair, making her forget everything that had been on her mind that day. She desperately needed it. Perhaps so did he. Perhaps all it had been was unsurity of whether the feelings he harbored were shared. And she proved they were.

     So for now it was enough to feel his touch, his kiss, and ignore everything else. And rest easy in the horridly soft bed, next to Brynjolf.

* * *

     Solas walked past a Tevinter mage who had fallen asleep in his chair in the library. Dorian hadn't left that spot since they arrived, bound and determined to uncover any information he could on the illusive Elder One, convinced there were possibly answers in the ancient dust covered tomes left behind at Skyhold. His only lead being that the Elder One called himself Corypheus. Solas shook his head at the snoring mage.

     He slipped past slumbering soldiers and mages, that took refuge in that tower, away from the bustling below. He climbed the steps, with grace and ease, and very little noise as he wore no shoes to hinder him. At the top of the tower, the spot where Sister Leliana usually sat was empty, as the Nightingale was probably off on some errand. The only sound made up there was the soft cooing of birds in the rafters. But he listened closely, steadying his breathing, even slowed the pace in which beat his heart. Stilling all sounds that would interrupt his intent.

     Though Leliana was gone, there was another hooded sleuth somewhere up there. He looked up through the rafters. Nothing up there but birds. Yet he still listened, patiently, until he heard the slightest noise, and looked to see a small window, moonlight shining through it. How she got up there, he hadn't a clue, but he would soon find out, as his intention was to climb up there.

     He shimmied up a wooden beam, and catwalked out onto the rafters. They were spread dangerously far apart, an issue that would probably make someone nervous, but to Solas it was rather trivial. No more dangerous than anything else Solas had ever done. He silently leaped from one rafter to another, upsetting two crows perched nearby. He ignored their incessant cries and swung himself over to the window sill.

     With a wave of his hand, a parlor trick of magical intent, the latch on the window unlocked, and he climbed through. Outside the window, there was a small ledge, on which sat a cloaked figure, feet dangling over the edge. It was the Dunmer named Karliah, the very person Solas had been looking for. She did not move, nor seem to even acknowledge his presence when he gingerly sat next to her, dangling his feet as well.

     Below them, there was a ravine, of which would certainly prove fatal if one were to suddenly fall. Karliah, however, seemed undisturbed by that fact, and was staring up at the moon.

     "I didn't imagine anyone would find me here." she said suddenly, the sound of her soft voice filling the space between them. "And I applaud your bravery for venturing out onto the ledge." he couldn't see it, but imagined she was smirking.

     "Birds tend to flock in high places." he stated. "I imagined one of your nature might do the same."

     Solas looked over to see the dark skinned Elvhen had not changed expression, and continued to stare at the sky, the light of the full moon making her purple eyes sparkle.

     "The sky is very different here." she stated. "Different constellations, different moon. Very foreign to what you would expect to see over Skyrim. I had wondered if I was truly in another realm, until I saw this sky."

     "I first theorized the likelyhood of this Skyrim belonging to another planet within our sky, when Mira arrived." Solas admitted. "Until she related to me that there is no substance called Magika here. Neloth conferred the same."

     "Why have you sought out my company?" she asked, seemingly out of the blue, but it was obvious she no longer wished to speculate further on the differences between Skyrim and Thedas.

     Solas cleared his throat a little. "I've come to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I must've seemed rather foolish."

     "You owe me no apology." she said. "I find you just as strange as you find me."

     So she assumed that he stared at her because she looked so different from him. He supposed he could accept that. It seemed preferrable than complicating matters.

     "Are all the elves here like you?" she asked him. He couldn't help but chuckle a little at the irony of that statement.

     "No, I'm afraid." he replied. "There are no elves here like me." he glanced over at her, and she seemed unphased by his small bit of sarcasm. "And yourself? What's it like in Skyrim for your people? Mira tells me the Dunmer lost their homeland to something called the Red Mountain."

     "A volcano that erupted, destroying Morrowind." Karliah stated, seeming disinterested. "It's in the past. Happened long before I was born, in fact."

     "You have no interest in your past?" he asked, overly curious.

     "Why should I? It's not my past. Don't you think it slightly more imperative to be concerned with the present? In the present their are two worlds that have collided with one another, both in peril, and both are needed, it seems, by the one called Dragonborn. If you'd rather discuss the past, I'm sure Neloth would be interested." Karliah raised a brow.

     She made a point.

     "I have no interest in Neloth's company." he said to her, folding his arms. "I mean no offense, but if there are more of your kind that resemble him, I'd much prefer to keep my distance."

     "He does seem to have that effect on people, doesn't he?" Karliah asked, and Solas turned his head to see her smiling.

     She was very beautiful. And very perplexing. Though it was clear she was concerned with the problems at hand, and with going home, and fixing whatever problems were there...still, she seemed so fearless. Remarkably so. There they were, out on a limb, so to speak, with not but the chasm below them. He had come across many fearless individuals in his travels, and lately, one of them had been Mira, the dragon that faced the Elder One and his archdemon, the woman who now led the Inquisition. Many warriors had come and gone in the passing of time, to rise and fall, and clash in the bloodiest of battles. Solas had seen it all come to pass...and yet...

     None of those things held his interest at the moment. In fact, all of his planning, all of the events that had unfolded, everything that could possibly transpire...seemed very dull compared to the lavender eyes that stared at him now. He had been silent. Pondering all the possibilities. Wondering if it really mattered what he did, when, if he and Mira succeeded somehow in returning her companions to Skyrim, and eventually her as well, when she was no longer needed...Karliah would be gone, and none of what he suddenly felt would matter.

     What could it hurt?

     Slowly, he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to Karliah's, until they brushed against hers. It was different than he imagined it would be, though he couldn't describe the feeling. She didn't resist at first, and it felt for all the world she shared the same feeling. The curiosity, the allure, the tension, making the hair on the back of the neck raise. For a brief moment, her tongue tentatively tasting his. But it was short lived.

     She put a black gloved hand up to his chest, and slowly pushed him back.

     "I can't." she whispered.

     Then, just as swiftly as earlier in the day, she stood up and flew across the rooftop behind them, disappearing into the dark, becoming one with the shadows themselves. Solas shook his head. Such the fool he was.

     Silently he stood and made his way back through the window behind him, closing it shut, as wolves howled to the moon from some far off place.

     ...The foolish wolf, always howling to the moon he longs to possess...his pride always keeping it just out of reach.

     (chapter continues below)

 

* * *

     Warden Blackwall sat on a bench in the barn, whittling a piece of wood with a knife. Sleeves pushed up, a bit of sweat across his brow, from the hearthfire, as well as from concern. Flecks of wood angrily flew from the wood in his hands as he carved.

     For a while it had been from trying to figure out how in the bloody hell he made the woman called Aela uncomfortable, and trying to find a way to apologize for whatever he did that didn't make him sound like a bumbling idiot. Women never made him nervous. But pissing them off did. There was nothing worse than an angry feminine form coming at him with something sharp. Particularly if that woman was from some place far away and foreign, and was able to shoot a bow in a frighteningly quick and accurate manner.

     But as the hour grew late, it was more worry than anything that bothered him. She still hadn't returned from wherever she ran off to, and as far as he knew, she was nowhere to be found in the keep. She was far from home, and he couldn't be sure if she knew how to get back.

     She didn't seem the type who didn't know how to handle herself in a fight, but there were still all sorts of things out there that could harm her, especially if she didn't know how to handle those things. Or she very well could've run into a lingering rift, and was attacked by demons. He could stand it no more.

     He stood up, and was about to alert someone to form a search party, when Aela stumbled into the barn. Looking like complete and utter shit. He dropped the knife and wood in hand and rushed over. Most of her armor was gone, and what remained was torn to bits. No bow, or quiver either, just her, shaking and delirious. Barefoot, and soaked to the core from melted snow.

     "Maker's balls, what happened to you?" he asked as he approached. She would say nothing, only shook wildly. Oddly, she smelled as if she'd recently been around wet dogs. Maker only knew where the hell she had been. He put his hands up to her face, trying to get her to look him in the eye. She wouldn't do so, just kept looking around, as if she had no idea where she was, or who she was. Perhaps she thought it was all a dream, and couldn't figure out why she wasn't in this land called...Skyrim, he thought, where she was from.

     She looked faint. Without a second thought he swooped her up into his arms. She was surprisingly lightweight, considering she was almost as tall as he, and her skin felt ice cold. It seemed she wasn't quite as resilient to the cold as the Inquisitor, and didn't fair as well out in the snow, barely clothed, most of the day and night. By the Maker, what time was it? Surely it would be daylight any minute, as late as it was.

     Blackwall carried the shivering woman up to the loft, and laid her on the soft pile of hay. She didn't move. She was unconscious, exhausted from...whatever had happened to her. At least she didn't come back covered in blood. No injuries that he could tell, only cold and soaked. He grabbed a nearby blanket and draped it over her, then leaned back against the bannister, crossing his arms. Gaping at the sleeping woman.

     There were any number of things he could've done. But he saw no sense in alerting everyone in the keep. There was enough to worry about. And it seemed Aela was alright, for the most part, so no sense in waking a healer. He scratched the back of his neck in thought.

     Interesting how the woman was far from what she had been earlier. So quickly she went from being a strong warrior, to a cold, vulnerable, and shivering thing. He'd have to do something about that. Was a good start at least. To make up for whatever he did earlier, he'd keep her from freezing and see about replacing her armor. With something a lot sturdier...and warmer, than whatever the bloody hell she had been wearing. Was the proper thing to do.

     Shame though, to hide such an attractive body behind mercenary scouts' armor...even the way she looked when she slept was quite fetching. Blackwall shook his head. When he signed up for this cause, he had no idea he'd eventually be signing on to play nursemaid to a half frozen woman in a barn. At least it was an attractive...nay, _very_ attractive half frozen woman.

The tired Warden sighed as he walked away.


	25. Out Of Her Element

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore)
> 
> (Yep, we are absolutely, one hundred percent, matter of factly, the farthest thing from Kansas, Dorothy, except these people have never heard of Kansas. They're from Thedas. And Skyrim.)

     Aela the Huntress awoke to find herself covered up, lying comfortably on a bale of hay. The smell of a fire and delicious stew filling her senses. For a brief moment she wondered if she were back in Skyrim and had been dreaming about being in a far away land called Thedas, in a castle called Skyhold. The air around her certainly smelled like Jarvaskr. But it wasn't the upturned longship in Whiterun she called home. As she sat up she realized it was indeed the barn at Skyhold. None of it was a dream.

     Such a precarious situation she was in. So far from home, so far from anything familiar. She looked down to see that even her armor was gone. Torn from her body when she violently, and uncontrollably changed into her beast form. She imagined she lost her bow somewhere in the wilderness as well. That was certainly new for her. But then again, never had she been so out of control, even when she was most angered, or most distraught, back in Skyrim.

     It seemed here she was vulnerable, and the worst of it being how little she remembered. She always remembered things, even in beast form. She was always in control of her actions. But not here in Thedas, obviously. At least she wasn't covered in blood. As far as she knew, no one was harmed by the beast within her. That was her only comfort at the moment.

     Something draped over the bannister next to her. Clothing, with a note attached. The clothing was for her. Warmer and more suitable for an archer, the note said. She held up the grey leather coat. Along with it, a tunic, a corset, trousers, even boots and bracers. All made of a durable leather. Light, but warm. She decided to accept the gift from the unknown source and put it on. It fit well enough.

     As soon as she was properly dressed, to the best of her ability, she ventured out of the barn and out into the yard, in search of someone she recognized, and hopeful of piecing together what happened when she transformed.

     She found most of her companions gathered in the main hall of the keep, and she gingerly stepped over and around workers trying to patch the floor, drawing nearer to the conversation in progress.

     "The Nord Heroes of Old crafted Dragonrend." stated Esbern as he stood next to Delphine, whose arms were folded, but whose sword was ever at her side. She probably slept with it. It wouldn't surprise Aela in the slightest. Esbern continued to speak.

     "It is a mortal creation, so why would it not be possible to create a Shout to take us home? It was a Shout that brought us here, Dragonborn." he raised a brow.

     The Dragonborn, Mira Ironhide, did not look up from where she sat in the throne, bent forward, helmet removed, elbows propped on her knees.

     "Because I don't know the first thing about crafting Shouts." she stated calmly, clasping her hands together. "It was not on the list of things Arngeir or Parthanaax chose to teach me. I wouldn't know where to start."

     "We could start with dragons." said Jarl Ulfric, who was lounging on the steps to the left of Mira, legs outstretched, looking very tired, running his fingers through his long blond hair. "You said they exist here. And you absorb the souls of dragons for their knowledge. When not go out and slay a dragon? Easy enough place to start. It couldn't hurt."

     Mira snorted. "The dragons are different here, Ulfric. Much different. Much larger too. They do not speak Dovahzul. In fact, I don't think dragons here speak at all."

     As Aela watched the conundrum at hand, she heard footsteps beside her. She looked over to see then man called Blackwall move to stand beside her, watching the others talk.

     "I see the armor fits." he murmured. So that was his doing?

     "It fits well, thank you." she nodded in gratitude. "Though I'd hardly call it armor. Is this really what archers wear in Thedas?" she asked, equally as quietly, as to not disturb the ongoing banter.

     "Not all of them." he replied. "Just the ones who still like to move while kicking a soldier's ass."

     Aela snorted, covering her face with her hand so the others didn't see her laugh. "Good answer." she said behind her hand.

     "What of that mark on your hand." said Brynjolf to Mira. "Rumor is that thing creates portals of some sort? Could it be used to create one that leads to Skyrim?"

     "That would probably be a very dangerous thing to attempt." said a figure, who entered just then from a side door, off to the right. A bald elf. With a shrewd expression. Solas, if Aela remembered correctly.

     "And how do you know?" asked Brynjolf. "What if it's the very thing that brought her here?"

     "That is highly unlikely." replied the elf. "I've had plenty of time to study the Anchor and it's effects. And with the information already gathered, it's probable that it was put in place after her arrival in Thedas."

     "Though remembering how I got the Anchor, or how I got here even, could certainly prove useful." added Mira, who now held her face in her hands as she spoke. Well, at least Aela wasn't the only one who couldn't remember something.

     "All we know is that the Anchor is connected to the realm of the Fade." stated Mira. "It's a demon realm." she said when she saw the shared looks of confusion.

     "It can manipulate the Veil between the mortal realm, this world, and the Fade itself." said Solas. "When we met Mira, there was a breach in the Veil. It destroyed the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Destroyed the Conclave that was conveined there, in attempts to broker peace between the mages and Templars at war with one another. We were able to use the Anchor to stabilize, and eventually close the breach, and it's evident it can be used to open rifts, the small tears in the Veil left in the breach's wake, however...opening a portal of such magnitude..." Solas had been pacing as he spoke, but suddenly stopped speaking when Karliah entered. Aela couldn't fathom why.

     It hardly mattered, for the one called Leliana followed her, and approached Mira.

     "Varric has returned, Inquisitor." she said. "And he's brought company. They're waiting to speak to you up on the battlements."

     Mira stood up, and walked over to Leliana, eyeing her curiously. The hooded woman whispered, a tone most quiet to others, but the wolf among them could hear her words plain as day. Aela stared at the floor as she heard Leliana mention to Mira how the shield maiden named Cassandra would be most disturbed when she found out who this Varric brought with him. As abruptly as Mira had stood, she left the hall without saying a word.

     "So what do you suggest we do, elf?" asked Brynjolf, continuing the conversation they had shared. Solas sighed.

     "We wait." the elf replied. "We have no way of knowing if the Anchor can bridge this realm and that of Skyrim. But...it stands to reason that if Mira could be brought here somehow from Skyrim, perhaps you could return the same way." he looked around at all of them. "In the meantime, as Skyhold is now home to the Inquisition, it is home to the allies of the Inquisitor. The people of Skyrim are welcome within it's walls."

     "I have a strange question to ask." said Delphine, who had been silent and listening. She put a finger up to her mouth and wrinkled her brow. "How is it that the people here can be so relaxed after seeing us appear out of thin air the other day?"

     "I wonder the same thing." said Ulfric. "Is teleportation common here? Is it normal? What sort of insanity happens here? Or do your soldiers not know we are from Skyrim?"

     Aela heard Blackwall chuckle beside her. "Oh, they know you're not from Thedas, lad." he said to the Jarl. "But you're not demons. I suppose that satifies them."

     "Yes, and much preferable to darkspawn." Solas smirked. Then he glanced over at Karliah, who shot him a look that Aela could not guess the meaning of, and with that, turned to leave the hall.

     With Mira otherwise occupied, it seemed best for everyone to make themselves useful. Normally, Aela would be happy to do so, perhaps offer to help the servants patching the floor...see if these tiny humans of Thedas needed some heavy lifting. But if there was a chance that excited activity could cause her to transform, she didn't want to take the risk. Considering how she had yet to know what caused her to change the day before, and why she seemed perfectly fine at the moment.

     She stepped outside into the sunlight, and a tall warrior with black hair and a scruffy face decided to follow her down the steps. She found she rather liked Blackwall. While the other people of Skyhold seemed... demure, perhaps even feminine, Blackwall looked more like a Nord. He looked the same as she. A person out of his element, who belonged in a cabin in the woods, rather than in a castle. He would make for a decent shield-brother, Aela thought to herself.

     "I never got to ask, how do you know Mira?" he asked, making conversation as they slowly made their way down the hill, avoiding people as they walked past, scurrying about in the morning sunlight.

     "A fair question." she said. "I am a Companion. Warriors in Skyrim that do what we do best. Mostly with swords and shields." she smirked.

     "Mercenaries?" he asked.

     " _Warriors_." she stressed. "We follow a more honorable code than most mercenary outfits of Skyrim...but yes, sometimes we're for hire. No enemy too big to handle. If the coin is good enough. Mira liked the way we handle things and asked to join. She proved her worth among our ranks. I wasn't surprised. She's Dragonborn. But more importantly, she's a Nord. Our people are practically born with swords in our hands."

     "Oh I'd believe it." he chuckled. "She ran out the door at Haven to take on an archdemon dragon singlehandedly. I'm all for a good fight, had my fair share of them. But that dragon lady of yours, she's absolutely daft. I've seen berzerker soldiers that would piss if they saw that woman coming at them." he sighed. "So what happened yesterday? Or do I want to know?" he folded his arms as he strode, eyeing her with interest.

     Aela looked down, fiddling with her belt buckle. Unsure of what to say. Trying to come up with a plausable excuse for disappearing. She had none. Completely at a loss for words. It had been many years since she felt so unsure of herself like she did just then.

     "If it's any fault of mine, I apologize." he said. "Wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't."

     She looked up to see him smiling sheepishly. He had very kind eyes. In fact, there wasn't anything she didn't like about him. If she was stuck there in Thedas, she much prefered his company over anyone else's.

     Before she knew it, Aela was standing in front of the stables, gaping at Blackwall like a small child. Why in Oblivion did she feel like a foolish girl around this man? It was very out of character. Of course, there was nothing normal as of late, and Aela assumed that wasn't about to change. Not until they could find a way to leave Thedas and return to Skyrim.

     But at that moment, as she stood in the company of a Grey Warden, as he was called, Aela didn't want to go. In fact, this man made her desperately want to stay. It almost didn't seem fair. But then again, when did Fate ever play fair?

 


	26. Fate, a Princess, and a Bottle of Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warrior from Skyrim wonders if it was more than the search for the Dragonborn, if perhaps it was fate, that he arrived in Thedas...

     Vilkas was always curious in nature. Perhaps that very fact about him brought him to be where he was in the first place. For unlike his brother, he had always been curious of the world, fueling his curiosity with books as a lad. Learning and growing with knowledge. Though very few knew that about him. It was hardly a topic to discuss with his shield-brothers and sisters in Whiterun. In fact, it hardly seemed imperative at all, at the moment. But it seemed that his curiosity of the Dragonborn's whereabouts certainly led him to Thedas...and my, was it intimidating. Even for one such as Vilkas, who feared little in life.

     He was completely baffled by Skyhold and it's inhabitants. Where there were some similarities, soldiers that bustled about, swords and shields in hand, mages, evidence of the exsistance of magic, elves, and apperently dwarves, according to gossip he overheard, and dragons...that's where the majority of similarities ended. And as knowledgeable as he had been of the history and inhabitants of Skyrim, he was nothing more than a curious child wandering through Skyhold in this land called Thedas.

     Strange things occured there. Things that hardly seemed possible. And he had _seen_ the impossible. He had seen dragons breathe life once more, thought only to be legend for millennia. And along with the return of dragons, he witnessed the very dead arise from their graves in the dragons' wake. All manner of illicit creatures rose up to plague the land, before he left. The strangest thing being a woman that could breathe fire and absorb the very soul of the immortal winged creatures of Skyrim. But in Thedas?

     In Thedas a blond haired boy walked through the courtyard then disappeared and reappeared moments later somewhere nearby, right in front of Vilkas, thinking no one noticed him. In a manner different than any magic in Skyrim. The boy walked through things, and a dark skinned woman named Vivienne, argued with an elf over the boy, Cole, claiming he was a demon. The elf assured her that he was a spirit, and not corrupt, who only meant to help, before growing frustrated and vowing to find the Inquisitor and hear her opinion on whether or not Cole should stay.

     But there were indeed demons in Thedas. Corrupt creatures that fell through a breach in the sky from somewhere called the Fade. A similar tale to the one told of the Daedric Prince, Dagon, who attempted to enter the mortal realm from his realm in Oblivion, unleashing his terrible dremora upon Tamriel. This demon problem didn't seem so bad, not since the breach was apparently sealed, but a creature called a darkspawn, only known as the Elder One to most, the stories told of him, however...

     Everyone avoided Vilkas as he passed. He found it intriguing. As most in the keep seemed rather unaffected by the group of people from Skyrim occupying the space. But it seemed that the way Vilkas towered over them in height made them afraid. As if he were a giant among them. If they were afraid of him, he would hate for them to see a frost giant from Skyrim then. It was an amusing thought though.

     But one among them grew brave enough to speak to him. A young brown haired human fellow. A scout. Though he looked no more than fifteen. A fine age for learning, but no age to be carrying a blade into battle, in Vilkas' opinion. The boy tentatively informed him that the shield maiden, Lady Cassandra, requested to speak to him in the armory. Then the boy tarried off, in great hurry to distance himself from the tall, menacing brute from Skyrim. Vilkas only shook his head.

     He was happy to see Lady Cassandra in the armory. A matter he was most curious of. A shield maiden that read embarrassing books and hid them behind her back. Who blushed when he approached. A woman who was obviously used to men running away from her, judging by her short hair, her scarred chin, and the sword she carried, that looked overly large in her small hands. The sword she obviously hid behind. That sort of woman was precisely the kind of woman that made Vilkas curious. And interested.

     A small smile appeared on his lips when he entered the armory, and climbed the steps to the second floor, where a woman stood pacing. He leaned against the wooden beam beside him and watched her. It was very becoming of her, the way she swayed when she paced, wringing her hands in a nervous manner.

     "How did a woman such as yourself become a warrior?" he asked. She turned around sharply, wide eyed.

     "I..uh..." she gaped. He chuckled.

     "I didn't mean to startle you." he said. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and stepped closer to her. "I've been told you wanted to see me."

     "Yes, well, I...I wanted to see you to...well..." she groaned. And her face turned beet red. "This is...rather embarrassing."

     He chuckled. "I can tell." he said evenly. He stepped closer. "Start with...you wanted to see me." he grinned.

     Cassandra sighed. "I wanted to see you...to ask of your intentions." she affirmed, nodding her head.

     "My intentions?" Vilkas repeated, crossing his arms, trying so hard not to laugh at the flustered woman staring up at him.

     "You are very different from the people of Thedas and..." she started pacing. "Well, you're not even from Thedas, you're from Mira's homeland. You're from Skyrim. And I know that it is imperative that you return and...Maker knows, you don't belong here...well, none of us belong here, I suppose. None of this is normal, but..."

     Vilkas gently grabbed Cassandra's arm. She stopped pacing and looked up at him.

     "You stopped making sense after 'I'm not from Thedas'." he said evenly. She let out an exasperated sigh.

     "I know." she relented, hanging her head a little. "I swear, I'm not usually like this." 

     "Pretend I'm from Thedas then. In fact, have a drink with me. If anything, your Inquisition made sure bring ale to Skyhold. Perhaps you can explain yourself then."

     "I really shouldn't..." Cassandra began.

     "You really should." he chuckled. "You look like you need one."

     "This early?" she leaned her head to the side.

     "It's never a bad time to have a drink. Drinking gives one courage. Makes a mouse think he's a man." he shrugged...

     ...After a few more long minutes of convincing, Vilkas followed Lady Cassandra to the tavern of the keep, that was empty still, with no one but the bartender, who worked tirelessly the day before to clean the place up. He now sat on a barstool, a rag thrown over his shoulder, face down on the counter, snoring. Vilkas walked past him, careful to not disturb his slumber, and swiped a bottle of wine from the box on the floor behind the bar. Then he lifted two mugs from the shelf behind him and carried the things up the stairs, motioning for the shield maiden to follow.

     He poured her a drink, and sat across from her at a table in the corner, leaning back in the chair. Cassandra sighed and took a small sip, raising a brow, as if to signal she completed the task and awaited approval. Then she set the cup down, and glared at him.

     "So. How did you become part of this Inquisition?" he asked her, before taking another drink.

     "That is a long story." she stated. "But I have questions of my own. Firstly, how do you know the Dragonborn? It was never discussed."

     "Fair enough." he answered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "She is our Harbinger. An advisor to myself, and Aela, and our group of Companions. When she and I heard she was missing, we offered our services to find her. We would do no less. She is our comrade. Though we expected she was trapped in Oblivion. We didn't expect to find her here...of course, leading your army came to no surprise." he smirked and took another drink.

     "So you're here out of honor to your friend." she stated, squinting her eyes.

     "In short, yes. Now it's your turn." he said, leaning back once more, taking in her shrude expression. She took a drink.

     "I'm here to put the world back in order. The same as everyone else. I have a task, I aim to accomplish it. It's as simple as that." she set down her cup and folded her arms.

     "Simple as that?" she nodded. "A game then." he said to her, and she cocked her head in interest. "I'll tell you who I think you would be in Skyrim, and you tell me how close I am to who you are in Thedas. I'm curious how well I have you pegged."

     "Fine." she motioned for him to proceed.

     "Hmm..." he looked her over, enjoying the chance to have his eyes upon her. "Probably the rebellious daughter of a Jarl. No. A king. Who refused to marry the imp fool her father betrothed her, and instead, ran off to join the first rebel army she could. But disappointed to find that her adventures weren't what she thought they would be, and secretly longed to return home...or something like that." he downed the rest of his drink, and waited for her response to his horrendous statement.

     "Is...that how I appear to you?" she raised a brow. "Like a spoiled princess who shirked her duties to her kingdom for adventure?" He chuckled.

     "No, I just wanted to see if you'd get angry." he said. She gaped at him. "Your reasons for being here are your own. Reasons do not matter when your purpose is a good one."

     "You make a point." she fiddled with the rim of her cup. "That could be said for everyone here. Our purpose is the same. Regardless of where we are from."

     "Fate has a funny way of bringing folks together over a purpose." he mused.

     She looked up at him, and for a moment, there was only silence between them. What the shield maiden was thinking, Vilkas couldn't guess. But there was something in her fiery eyes that looked familiar. A thought in her head she was probably too embarrassed to speak of. And she bit her lip in thought.

     "You believe in fate?" she asked, as her eyes lingered on him still. He nodded.

     "Aye. I do. We may not always know what the gods have planned...but there is always purpose."

     She stood up then, pushing her chair back, and obviously wanting to leave. Too soon, Vilkas thought to himself. He liked her company. But perhaps, whatever it was she meant to ask of him was better left for another time. He wasn't about to fluster her further, and said nothing when she turned to walk toward the stairs. But she did turn around, and did have one last thing to say.

     "Seventy-eighth in line." she said.

     "Pardon?" he raised a brow.

     "I'm no rebellious princess, but I am seventy-eighth in line to the Nevarran throne." she smirked a little. "You were close."

     He chuckled. "I'd hardly call that close." he looked her over. "I'm guessing you're glad there are seventy-seven people in the way, though."

     "A little. At the moment yes. But if there weren't...I would like to think I wouldn't run from duty, but..."

     "You would do whatever is the just thing to do." he reached for the bottle of wine on the table, and uncorked it for another drink. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her nod in agreement.

     "Always." she said. Then she turned and left the room.

     Interesting woman. Beauty... _and_ a conscience? It seemed Fate handed Vilkas a hearty treasure. As confused as he had been since arriving in Thedas, of one thing he was sure of in that moment. He wouldn't regret being stuck there if it meant he were stuck there with her.

     Everything happened for a purpose, didn't it?


	27. To Whom Your Heart Belongs

     _Shadows preserve us_.

     Karliah said it again and again in her mind. It was all she could do to keep from worrying. Though she wondered if her silent prayers to Nocturnal could even be heard from so far away. So far from home, with little hope to get back.

     At least Mira was safe. No, she was far beyond safe. It seemed that when she arrived in Thedas, she was granted a magical mark on her hand that allowed her to manipulate and close portals to a demon realm that plagued Thedas. Thought at first to be the criminal responsible for the destruction caused by the breach in the sky, she soon proved her value, both as a warrior, and a leader, and was now called the Herald of Andraste by some. Believed to be the savior sent by their god, to put an end to the dark magic afoot.

     The 'dragon lady', as some called her, believing that her Dragonborn abilities meant she herself was a dragon in a human body, very quickly became known throughout Ferelden and Orlais as a hero, even helping to stave off the fighting between warring factions, and freeing rebel mages. A fact that came to no surprise to Karliah. Though the subject of magic in Thedas was most odd.

     The human named Leliana, resident spy and informant for the Inquisition, made note to mention how touchy the subject of magic was in Thedas, when Karliah asked. According to her, mages rebelled against the Circle of Magi, in which they had been imprisoned. At least that was how most saw it. Those who were not from noble houses, and therefore lived less comfortably than higher class citizens who showed signs of magical ability. To them, Circles meant imprisonment, guarded carefully by the faction called Templars, sanctioned by the Chantry to care for the recipients. Forced to undergo dangerous, and seemingly unnecessary rituals, and rendered a 'state of Tranquillity' if compliance was not met.

     While the details of Tranquillity were unsettling enough, supposedly members of the Circles were abused, perhaps even tortured by the Templars that guarded them. These battered indivuals came forward, and rebellion sparked, temporarily abolishing the Circle of Magi. Apparently, it seemed worth doing, as even a Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi rebelled. The elf called Fiona, who was leading the rebellion until Mira offered her an alliance to help close the Breach.

     This was much different than the approach towards magical ability in Skyrim. Though there were incidents in the past with magic growing out of control, a subject believed to be the culprit behind the Great Collapse in northern Skyrim, magic was generally just a misunderstood notion to those uneducated. Provided there was a safe place to properly learn and practice magic, formally the Mages Guild, but was now the College of Winterhold, magic was seen as no more than a unique skill for one to possess. Unless one were a superstitious Nord. Which there were plenty of those in Skyrim.

     Of course, according to those she spoke to about her furthered interest in magic, including Enchantress Fiona, and Lady Vivienne, magic there in Thedas was not a lightly colored subject. Mages in Thedas drew their power from the Fade itself, the demonic realm in which plagued them. And while there was much to still be learned about the Fade, there was much more to be discussed about magic itself.

     Even though Fiona and Vivienne were of two opposing opinions on the Circle of Magi, both were like-minded in that much care and caution was needed in the future where mages were concerned. Karliah almost wondered if one day, in the future of Thedas, that both women would come together in effort to maintain peace for mages. Amusing thought at least. Karliah wondered if she would be stuck there long enough to see it unfold.

     Amusing to think how many different minded people occupied Skyhold. A rebellious mage elf, who was nothing like elves in Skyrim at all, a shrewd Circle member, an ex Templar commanding the Inquisition's soldiers, one that Serana followed around like a stray pup. A lavish Tevinter, who Neloth said was a terribly sarcastic fellow, a spirit from the Fade, that took a human form...

     But all willing to take up a needed cause. Heroic of them. Karliah sighed.

     She was standing in the main hall of the castle, listening to the remainder of the conversation at hand. Primarily, the subject of the mark, called the Anchor, and whether or not they could use it to get home. And as much as the thought of not returning to Skyrim bothered her, there was something...someone else that bothered her more. An elf named Solas, who kissed her the night before.

     There was nothing wrong with him. A handsome looking fellow, seemed kind, and intelligent, and soft spoken. But it was all wrong. All out of place. She didn't belong there, in that realm...and her heart belonged to another...But the way it felt when she kissed him...Something awakened inside of her that hadn't in twenty-five years.

     She briefly wondered how old this Solas was. If he was old enough to understand matters of the heart. Or was it simply that he fancied her because she was different. Unique. Perhaps he liked strange, unusual and new things, and when she went back to Skyrim, it would go away, and he would fixate on something else. Either way, she didn't know if she would ever get home, but she had to. Her Mistress demanded it.

     Mira left the main hall and so did the others. Karliah followed Solas through a side door, and watched him walk over to a desk, then turn to face her. It seemed he was catching on to her quiet footsteps. Learning quickly how to know when she was there. An intelligent elf indeed.

     "The 'shadow dancer'." he said, nodding, almost bowing in her presence as he addressed her so.

     "I am sorry, Solas." she said, without wasting words or time. He knew what she apologized for. His gaze saddened, just a little, almost unnoticeable, but still...

     "There is no need." he cleared his throat and straightened his stance. "I can see the feeling was not mutual. I will not disturb you further." he turned away from her, distracting himself with the papers on the desk. He himself was disturbed.

     "I don't belong here." she said gently. "It could never be. Surely you understand that."

     "How do you know?" he turned to face her again. "How do you know you weren't meant to be here? You're here, are you not?" he raised a brow.

     "But I must return. When we find a way, and we will, we all must. We do not belong to this realm, do we?"

     He drew near to her, drawing her in with his gaze. His storm colored eyes, that almost looked like the winter skies over Skyrim. She didn't realize, but he brought up a finger, and with it, slowly pulled down the mask over her face, and she could feel his touch glide across her skin.

     "How do you know that, Karliah?" he asked. She swallowed.

     "The words of my Mistress bid me to return." she said.

     "Your mistress?" he asked. "Your...goddess, I presume?" she nodded at his words.

     "And what exactly were you goddess' words, pray tell?" he implored, leaning his head in interest, eyes sparkling.

     "That I gather Mira's allies, and return her to Skyrim." she replied.

     "That is all? Nothing more?" the elf inquired further, and Karliah could not read his expression. She sighed.

     "That was all. She will not say more until Mira returns." Shadows preserve her. She never intended on telling anyone of this, other than Mira, and only she and Brynjolf knew of this. Why, then, did she have to tell Solas? Was she going to have to tell him everything...the history of Skyrim even...to get him to understand?

     "So she said for Mira to return...but no one else?" again, he raised a brow. Karliah wrinkled hers and glared.

     "You're picking apart her words?" she sighed. "It matters little. I do not belong here, regardless. Even if..."

     Before she could finish her words, Solas kissed her again. Damn him. It felt wonderful. But it simply couldn't be. She pulled away.

     "My heart is...already taken." she admitted. He stepped back.

     "...I see." his brow furrowed in thought. He turned to walk back toward the desk. "And this person waits for you?...In Skyrim?"

     "Yes." she said, heavy hearted. "I could never be yours...Even if I wanted to-"

     "No, you couldn't." he snapped, his words a little testy.

     "I am sorry." she said, then turned to leave. "Perhaps, in another life...it could have been."

     "May I know his name?" she heard him ask. She paused for a moment.

     "Gallus." she replied. Then she left the room.

* * *

     All the sudden anger that arose, left almost as quickly as it arrived, upon hearing the man's name spoken. Solas had been heartbroken. But it was brief. And then, replaced by sorrow.

     He had heard that name before. He was most certain he knew who it was. In their travels, Mira had told him of the Dunmer named Karliah that saved her life, in the most unusual fashion. And she told the story of how they met. When Mira meant to avenge the death of a man...named Gallus. Led by someone named Mercer, who aimed to slay the murderer, supposedly Karliah, but it was revealed to be Mercer himself as the real killer. He meant to cover up what he had done.

     This...Gallus, whoever he had been, still held the heart of the dark elf named Karliah. And Karliah herself wished to remain true to him, even in death. No one Solas knew in Thedas could be so loyal...But someone from Skyrim could. In these dark days, such a pure form of love existed. How could Solas be jealous of it? And now...how his heart ached for a different reason. A reason probably no one in that world could comprehend.

     He could not possess her heart, but he could keep it from ever being broken again. It would certainly not be from his doing, of that he would make sure.

     Yes, she was right. Perhaps in another life it could have been.


	28. Distracted

     Commander Cullen Rutherford.

     Tall, fairly handsome, and a good man, according to everyone Serana spoke to. Was a Templar before he joined the Inquisition, and whatever that meant, Serana was yet to completely understand. Though she knew that before she arrived, there were Templars that attacked a village called Haven, corrupted by a demon creature called the Elder One. And Cullen knew some of them. She felt rather bad for him. It wasn't something that was completely lost on her, considering who she used to be.

     In the days since he and the others arrived at Skyhold, he hadn't stopped working. She wondered if he even slept at all. As far as she knew, all he did was stand and glare at papers on his desk, going over plans and horribly scribbled notes, or hover over young lads that arrived daily ay Skyhold, wanting to take up arms for the Inquisition's cause, wanting to see them properly trained. Even Ulfric Stormcloak mentioned in passing how, for the brief minutes he came in contact with Cullen the last two days before setting off to help around the keep...he said that Cullen looked like a dead man walking about. Ironic, really.

     So it came to great surprise when that morning she didn't find him at his desk in the tower above the battlements. He hadn't been in the keep either, with the others who reported to Mira, because Mira was busy. She walked across the courtyard, ignoring the odd looks she received, and pushed open the side door in front of her. On the other side was a small garden, in good condition for a place that had been abandoned for gods only knew how long before the Inquisition showed up. And she heard voices. One of them unfamiliar, but the other belonged to a fair haired soldier, the man she was looking for.

     Cullen was playing a table game of sorts with a dark haired fellow, uniquely dressed, even for the strange ensembles common to this Thedas she was in. She clutched the papers she held tightly to her breast and leaned against a post to watch.

     "Miss Serana." Cullen looked up. He moved to get up from his seat.

     "Hey, no, it's okay. Don't stop on my account. This is...interesting. Never seen a game like this before." she peered over to see the pieces on the board spread across the table.

     "Well it's about to be over." said the dark haired man. "You'll have to except your inevitable loss my friend." he moved a piece and sat back in the chair, gloating.

     Cullen moved another piece on the board. "Why is that...when it seems that I have won?" he sat back in his own chair, gloating as well. The dark haired man sat forward, surprised at the move made.

     "Well then." he huffed, then chuckled a little. "That's enough for me then." he stood up, eyeing Serana curiously for a moment, but said nothing to her and left the garden, and it was only her and Cullen then.

     "Care to learn how to play?" he asked, smiling a little as he spoke.

     "Couldn't hurt." she said, then she moved to sit where the other fellow had been, across from Cullen. "I rewrote all your notes." she said, setting the stack of papers between them.

     "You...rewrote all my notes?" he raised a brow.

     "Yeah, no offense but...I know chickens in Skyrim that scratch better than you write." she said.

     "You're terribly honest." he chuckled, then picked up the papers, browsing through the stack with his gloved fingertips. "I'm impressed. I don't know anyone here that can write as beautifully." he looked up at her.

     "I've had a lot of time to practice." she leaned back in the chair, folding her arms, and eyeing him skeptically. "I'm surprised you're not working. I mean, with everything that happened...A group of people from another realm hanging around, even? And all you do is nose your way through battle plans." she smirked.

     He sighed a little, his face becoming grim. "We lost a lot of good men at Haven. I don't want it to be repeated. I want to be prepared this time."

     "Yeah, I heard what happened. I'm sorry." she relented. "So you think these Templars will attack again?"

     "It's a possibility. Though it seems evident at the moment that this Elder One has moved on to other things. Which is why it's just as imperative to find out who he is, and what he's planning. All we have to go on is the information the Inquis..." he clear his throat, "Mira...uncovered in Redcliffe."

     "Ah." Serana leaned forward and placed a hand on his, that rested  on the table. "I know you'll figure it out." she assured him.

     He looked up. "You have faith in me?" he raised a brow. "You barely know me."

     "I'm usually pretty good at reading people." she said. "And you don't seem the type that gives up easily."

     He looked down to see her hand still on his, obviously unnerved by the contact, so she drew away, and placed her hand on her lap. She had no idea why she felt so comfortable with him, but she didn't question it. If she was stuck there at Skyhold, she was glad he was there. In fact, she didn't miss Skyrim at all at the moment. If it weren't for vampires coming out of hiding, and causing trouble again, she wondered if she even had a reason to go back. And she wondered why it was her problem to deal with anyway. She'd been dealing with it long enough. Maybe it was time to relax, and let Isran deal with the mess. He was the vampire hunter, after all. And until recently, she had been one.

     Did she really need to be like the others and worry about getting home? Wasn't it enough to do her part to find Mira and tell her what was going on?...She sat back in her seat, and eyed this handsome Cullen. Really...what _did_ she have to go back to? What if she was meant to stay here?

     "Plus, you have Mira." she said, continuing conversation. "I know Mira. Travelled with her a lot back in Skyrim. I've seen her do a lot of unbelievable things. She's Dragonborn. Saving the world is what she does for a living. And now, you have her closest, most loyal allies from Skyrim. This Elder One?...He'd better watch out." she grinned mischievously. It made Cullen chuckle. He had a nice laugh. Warm and cozy.

     "I see." he said. "Yes, she is...certainly something else. But what of you?...You mentioned she...rescued you from your own family. Might I ask the details?" before she answered he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm prying."

     "No, it's okay." she shrugged. "My...father was a bad person. A... _very_ bad person. Planned on doing a lot of bad things. And Mira helped me stop him."

     "What happened to him?" Cullen asked. Serana cleared her throat.

     "She...uh...she killed him." she admitted. "Took some convincing. But, that's Mira for you. She would never kill someone unless it was absolutely necessary. Always been about giving people second chances. Even if those people planned on doing world dominating level of bad things."

     "But she _did_ kill him? Your father?...I'm sorry for your loss." Cullen seemed at a loss for words at her bit of revelation. Serana could see why. But she merely shrugged onced more.

     "Doing the right thing isn't always easy. Sometimes... _that's_ how you know it's the right thing to do."

     Cullen nodded in agreement. She could tell by the look in his eyes, he understood exactly what she meant by that. She wondered why, and was tempted to ask, until he spoke.

     "Thank you." he said.

     "For what?" she asked.

     "For...everything really." he replied. "Telling me about you, reassuring me of your friend, and...everything else. I have to say you're a _very_ nice distraction." he hung his head. "That sounded wrong. I'm sorry."

     Serana laughed a little bit. "You're not so bad yourself, Commander...If you'd like, I could distract you more often. You look like you need it."

     By the gods, did she just _hit_ on him? That was...awkward.

     "I uh...I'd like that." he said. Then he cleared his throat again, rubbing his neck nervously. "So...about this game," he gestured to the board on the table. "It's actually fairly easy to play, once you learn."...


	29. Hawke, the Hero of Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As tends to happen when the Dragonborn is involved, meeting the Champion of Kirkwall takes a unique turn...

     "So, word is you're Inquisitor now." said Varric as he strolled beside Mira along the battlement. "Makes sense. Give the job to the one who's practically leading the outfit already." he smirked.

     "So the dwarf approves?" Mira raised a brow.

     "Yes, 'dragon lady', the 'little man' approves." he chuckled. "But are you sure you're cut out for it? I mean, charging into caves full of wild beasts seems more your thing, really. Not sitting on a throne, barking orders." he looked up at her.

     "True. But everyone else thought it was a good idea. And if the others have that much faith in me...well, I run toward things, not away from things." she confirmed.

     They stepped down from the walkway to the corner of the confinement. Leaning over the ramparts was a tall figure, almost as tall as Mira. He looked about Cullen's build...but he looked nothing like Cullen. Unkempt brown hair, scruff on his face, and when he turned she saw he had a red slash of what looked like war paint across his nose. A warrior. And a mage, from what she could tell, evident by a long guilded staff trapped to his back. Funny that it seemed he wielded magic instead of a sword, for he looked like the kind of man who didn't mind getting a little bloody, up close and personal. He was quite fetching.

     "Mira Ironhide, meet Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall." Varric introduced.

     "Though I no longer go by that title these days." he remarked, with a Ferelden sounding accent. At least she assumed he was. He didn't sound like anyone from Val Royeux in Orlais. Though honestly, she had no idea where Kirkwall was. Only heard of it.

     "So this is the Inquisitor. You didn't lie. She's...tall." he looked her up and down. She stuck out her hand to shake his.

     "Just call me Mira." she said to him with a smirk. "Varric tells me you fought in the rebellion in Kirkwall." she stated, repeating Varric's words. "And you fought Corypheus."

     Hawke leaned to the side, folding his arms, still looking her over...obviously interested in the fact that she wasn't Thedosian in the slightest. Though she did sound a bit like how Josephine pronounced things, a fact that suddenly made her wonder where Josephine was from. But still, this Hawke stared at her, wrinkling his brow.

     "So, is it true? _Are_ you a dragon?" he asked, as his eyes met hers once more. She glanced at Varric, who shrugged.

     She smirked. "No...but I do slay them. Now about the Elder One."

     "Yes, the one who calls himself Corypheus. I did fight him...and I killed him. Or at least, I thought I had...so do you really breathe fire?"

     "He still doesn't believe me." Varric said to her, again, shrugging at Hawke's curiosity. Mira simply eyed the man with scrutiny. She imagined under different circumstances he was quite serious. Varric had said he fought in the mage rebellion, no light hearted matter. And now he was here. With information to share, if only she could get it out of him.

     "Mul...Qah...Diiv!" she Shouted, her Thu'um beckoning the Aspect of the Dragon. A surreal form, of which a spectacle of horns and scales surrounded her. Hawke stepped back a touch.

     "I've never seen magic like that." he raised a brow. "That is...certainly unique."

     "I imagine it is. For I'm the only one that possesses this power. Now...Hawke. Varric tells me you have information for the Inquisition. Care to share it? You say you thought you killed Corypheus before? Then another has taken his name?"

     "Or it's the very same Corypheus. Which I'm certain it is, and he's a lot harder to kill than I thought." Hawke rubbed his chin as he spoke, still looking her over as the Dragon Aspect that surrounded her began to dissipate. "So you can just...speak any time you want, and do things like that?"

     "I don't abuse my power." she stated evenly. "At least not that much." she winked. "So...how to kill the unkillable. Something I'm not unfamiliar with. But things are a lot different here in Thedas...perhaps to know the source of his power..." Mira started pacing.

     "I don't know about that but...I can tell you why I've come. I have information on your missing Grey Wardens."

     Mira stopped pacing and turned back to Hawke. A topic Warden Blackwall would be interested in. And something she was most interested in, since the Elder One was believed to be a darkspawn, or like one anyway, and Grey Wardens were tasked with combating the creatures. Even Varric perked up.

     "I made contact with them, investigating corruption among their ranks. Once before, Corypheus used his connection to the darkspawn to corrupt them, and I imagined it was a similar case. Though I have no information on that as of yet, I _did_ find evidence of red Lyrium."

     "Red Lyrium is what's corrupting the Templars that fought with him." Mira noted. "And it was at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, was it not?" she turned to Varric, who nodded. "You made contact with them. Where did they go?" she asked Hawke.

     "That I do not know, but the one I spoke to, a Warden named Stroud, he's supposed to be hiding out in an old smugglers' cave in Crestwood."

     "Can you take me to this cave in Crestwood?" she asked him. He nodded.

     Just then, a blond figure swung open a nearby door and stood frozen in front of them, catching their attention. It was Freja, the leader of Skaal Village in Skyrim, and a dear friend of Mira's. She obviously didn't expect anyone to be conversing in that spot, judging by her surprise. And what caught Mira's attention more was the shapely figure that was not hiding behind Nordic armor.

* * *

     Freja of the Skaal was never a fearful woman. Superstitious perhaps. But never afraid. She had seen many a strange thing in Solsteim, and even watched as most of the island, and all of her people, became slaves to a being thought to have been dead for a thousand years. But Miraak hadn't been dead, but hiding in the realm of Oblivion called Apocrypha, Hermeus Mora's realm, until a Dragonborn named Mira Ironhide killed him...for good this time, and freed Freja's people. For that she owed Mira her life.

     For that reason she journeyed with warriors from Skyrim in search for Mira, to repay the debt owed to the one called the Last Dragonborn, the fabled hero of legend. And for that very reason she stood before a dragon and let him Shout her to another realm. A fantastical thing.

     But she didn't end up in Apocrypha. Farthest from it. As it turned out, Mira had been transported somehow to...well, to another universe she guessed, for no one had evidence proving otherwise. A place called Thedas full of strange people in strange clothes with strange sounding voices. And none of them had a way to get home. They were safe for the moment, for they were at a castle surrounded by people, soldiers, who all pledged themselves to Mira's leadership, believing she was a savior from their god, because of the strange magic on her hand. But they were far from home, and Freja...became frightened.

     These people looked at her with strange looks, and she didn't like it. She was no demon, she was human, and she meant them no harm. But their eyes held fear...mistrust. And equally she mistrusted them. So she hid, far away from them, finding an abandoned tower of the keep. And she slept with her sword in her hand.

     It was too hot to wear her armor. It was not northern Solsteim, not Skaal village, and her Nordic blood made her sweat profusely. So she took it off. And luckily, managed to find clothing in a chest, long abandoned by the previous owner of the castle. She put it on, and hid her armor safely in the chest, but the clothing was hardly appropriate. A blue dress that showed too much of her form. She was no tavern maid, but she felt like one.

     And she was hungry. No use in hiding any longer. She would find Mira, and see about some food. And none other than the Dragonborn herself stood outside the door she walked through. With company.

     A very short, gloating looking fellow, with arms folded, and flaming red hair. Mira of course, eyes gleaming with her curiosity and surprise and...a man.

     A handsome man, the likes of which she had never seen back home. And their eyes met. He was just as curious of her as she him.

     "I...I'm sorry." she said, all eyes were upon her. "I didn't mean to...disturb you."

     "Freja." Mira smiled. "Come. This is Varric and...Hawke." she gestured to the two of them. "This is Freja, a friend of mine." she said to them.

     "Uh...hello." she stumbled. "Did I...interrupt...anything?" she asked cautiously, silently wondering why she was so tentative at the moment.

     "No, dear, you did not." assured Mira, who then turned to the tall...and handsome man named Hawke. "I must travel to the Storm Coast." she said. "It is long overdue. There are folks there claiming to offer alliance with the Inquisition. And we need allies at the moment. They asked to meet me in person. Let's hope I can employ them, and don't have to Thu'um them."

     "Thoom?" asked Hawke.

     "Fire breath." Mira replied.

     "Ah." he said, though judging by his expression he was still confused.

     "When I return I should like if you took me to Crestwood to meet this Stroud, if you would. In the meantime, make yourself welcome at Skyhold." Mira reached out to shake his hand, which he obliged, and then he glanced at Freja.

     "I shall do so." he said.

     Mira turned to leave, obviously heading toward the keep and the short Varric followed. Then Freja's heart leapt in her chest. She had forgotten she meant to speak to Mira, but was still staring at this Hawke fellow. She flushed with embarrassment, and then turned toward the steps Mira had taken.

     "Do you...stay here? At Skyhold?" she heard Hawke ask. She turned around. He had started walking toward her, hands folded behind his back.

     "I...yes, I suppose." she replied, fighting the urge to bite her lip at the way he looked at her.

     "I should hope to see you then...um, while I'm here." he said. "Freja." he said her name quietly and bowed a little, in a respectful fashion. No, there were certainly no men like him back in Solsteim...Or Tamriel for all that mattered to Freja.

     Perhaps...she wouldn't mind being in this Skyhold after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No...Hawke is not in a previous/current relationship in this story. I'm so totally against that sort of thing.


	30. The Dragons Are Bigger Here

     Mira struggled to concentrate. She had left the battlements only to stride into the keep with more faces in front of her, asking questions. Lady Vivienne and Solas were both concerned for the boy named Cole, the boy who came to Haven to warn them of Templars marching on the village. Vivienne called him a demon, and Solas called him a harmless spirit, but both were certain he wasn't human.

     "He helped us at Haven. As long as he does no harm, he stays." was all she said to them.

     Cullen and the other advisors asked to meet with her in the War Room, and supposedly Cassandra was very upset with Varric, concerning who he brought with him, to which Leliana had forwarned of happening. Upon hearing this, oddly, Vilkas darted from the room. Esbern and Delphine still had much to discuss about the issue of getting home to Skyrim. As did Ulfric. But they would have to wait, she assured. For as it seemed, there was no getting home any time soon. Not without a Shout, and certainly not with the mark. As Solas had mentioned of how dangerous it would be to attempt such a notion. And they had no way of knowing if the mark was the cause of her arrival anyway.

     In the War Room, she and the Inquisition's advisors discussed leaving for the Storm Coast in the morning to persue this Iron Bull that wished to speak to them. A scout had reported a lingering rift or two in the area, a matter that needed dealt with, and only Mira had the power to solve that problem. And Cullen suggested scouting the Crestwood area first as well, before embarking there. Gods only knew what would be waiting for them. Mira could only take Hawke's word on this Stroud fellow. Who betrayed his own comrades, the Wardens, and relayed only a portion of information before going into hiding.

     There was still the matter of the Empress of Orlais as well. A date had been set for the party at the Winter Palace, and, oddly, they had been invited...without question. It seemed someone already suspected an assassination attempt and asked if the Inquisition would investigate. This person offered an alliance with them, provided they attend and see to the ordeal. A man named Duke Gaspard. The Empress' cousin. Leliana didn't want to discount the possibility of Gaspard himself being the culprit, and wanting to cover his tracks by making it seem like he intended to investigate, and remain favorable in the eyes of the imperial court. And he was no man to be trifled with. He was the general of the Orlesian army.

     The party would take place in just a month's time, and Mira would need to be ready and expectant of anything. Because, apparently, the Orlesian court took parties seriously. Too seriously. Wearing masks and playing games of espionage with one another. A game played to the death, Josephine said. A grave matter indeed.

     When she left the War Room, Josephine pulled her aside. She had something she wanted to discuss, but not in front of the others. A private, and personal matter. A family matter. She explained to Mira about a place called Antiva, the place where she hailed from. Her homeland. Her family had been merchants and traders there, but had not been for some time as of late. They were forbidden to trade in Orlais, something of which was costing them alot of coin and leaving her family destitute. A sad tale to hear of.

     But to make matters worse, just as Josephine was making headway with negotiating her family being allowed trade outside Antiva once more, and arrangements had been made to broker a treaty, the messangers sent to Orlais were slaughtered. And all their documents destroyed.

     Josephine mentioned that Leliana made inquiries into who was responsible for the murders, and supposedly there was a noble in Val Royeux that knew their indentity. But he had a request. That Josephine go to Val Royeux, and bring Mira, in person, as to be seen publically conferring with the Inquisitor, no doubt to gain favor or advantage with other Orlesian nobles. It seemed reasonable, considering how Orlesians typically behaved, seeking status and notoriety. And should anything go wrong, Val Royeux was a large and very public place to be, should this Compte, as he was called, turn out to be a traitor setting a trap.

     Upon hearing all this, however, an unexpected guest burst through the window and tumbled to the floor. It was Sera, eavesdropping. She stood up haphazardly and began brushing herself off. Somehow, she had been out on the ledge on the other side of that window, in a precarious position considering how far of a drop it was to the bottom below.

     "Miss Sera!" exclaimed Josephine in utter shock. "How did you...?"

     "What? Oh, that?" she pointed to the window. "I was just...you know, spot cleanin' the windows."

     Both Mira and Josephine gaped at her. Though Mira almost wanted to laugh at the way Sera brushed the incident off, Josephine did nothing of the sort. She went over to the window sill and turned back around, placing her hand on her hips.

     "You gave me a terrible fright!...And the Inquisitor!" she corrected, nervously glancing at Mira, hoping she would scold Sera, probably.

     "So what's all this about your family, yeh?" Sera asked, crossing her arms. "Killin' eachother over stupid stuff, I imagine. Go figure." she drolled.

     "My family is none of your business." stated the Antivan crossly. "And no, not each other. If you must know, couriers employed by my family, thank you." she stuck her nose up a little.

     "Same thing. So you're going to Val Royeux, then? I want to come." Sera lit up in interest as she spoke, rather like a curious child. Couldn't hurt to have her bow, if she did come along.

     "I've made the arrangements to leave after you return from Crestwood." Josephine turned to Mira. "And I do not think it wise for Sera to attend."

     "Why not?!" barked Sera.

     "Because you are hardly... _professional_ company!" snapped Josephine. "Now, if you will kindly excuse yourself from my office, and refrain from falling out of my window, I would much appreciate!"

     "Well aren't you just a typical bigwig then, aren't you?" Sera turned to storm out. "Hag." she muttered on the way out the door.

     "Why on earth did you employ her?" Josephine shook her head.

     "Because she's good with a bow. And in an army you need archers just as much as swords and shields." Mira said reassuringly. Josephine sighed.

     "Fair point." she noted.

     "She _should_ come, Josephine. I met her in Val Royeux, which means she knows the city, and knows it's vantage points. She could provide a good lookout, should things go... _unfavorably_." Mira raised a brow, as Josephine groaned.

     "Alright then." she relented.

     "And I think you should go apologize."

     "Apologize?!...But she-" Josephine almost stamped her foot.

     "Sera may be different, but I can tell she means well. And you're _both_ here for the same purpose...sort of. So why not try and get along?" Mira smirked. "Perhaps you can remind her there are other ways of entering your office besides the window."

     "But-"

     "Think of it as an order. From your Inquisitor." she beamed.

     "Oh so _now_ you don't mind having a title." Josephine huffed, but all the same, she turned to leave the room, hopefully in search of Sera. So Mira left the room as well, turning left, rounding the corner, and headed up the stairs to her quarters.

     She hoped Josephine understood what she meant for her to do. To perhaps see the world from Sera's perspective. She saw this a lot in Skyrim, of course then, she did not have the title of Inquisitor to do anything about it. But here, she could make people understand one another, one way or the other.

     People flocked to Haven, and now to Skyhold, from all parts of Thedas. And their numbers would only grow with each passing day. All flocking to one banner. The Inquisition that meant to put an end to the terrors that plagued them. Though they could do little just then, and yet to accomplish much, they were united for a purpose. A good purpose, Mira hoped for it to be. There would be nobles and commoners alike. All living under one roof. Best they get to understanding one another. And a good start was with Josephine.

     For though she was a good woman, and her heart was in the right place, to some, she was still no more than a prissy noble with not but a quill and paper and her words. That person that saw that from her, at the moment, was Sera.

     And Mira needed a moment of peace. Just one moment...one brief moment.

     "Stressed from the job already?" asked Brynjolf from behind her. He had been leaning against the doorway to the balcony, watching her pace.

     "It's a lot different from being Guild Master, I'll tell you that." she smiled sheepishly. He walked over from the doorway.

     "Well you were raking in coin for a band of misfits, not leading an army." he said. She sighed.

     "Well, today I feel like I'm leading a bunch of children." she admitted. "Or...maybe I'm the child, and everyone's leading me. I don't know which."

     "Well while you were busy this morning, I've been keeping an eye on everyone. They're getting comfortable already." Brynjolf ran a hand through his auburn locks. "I don't know if everyone's going to want to leave when the time comes."

     Mira sat on the couch. "How do you mean?" she asked him. He sighed and joined her.

     "You're friend Serana? Getting comfortable with that Commander Rutherford. She's already his little secretary...You're Companions are getting comfortable too. Aela and that Warden. And I spotted Vilkas in the tavern with the shield maiden, Cassandra. I've been watching everything. Even our own Karliah. I wonder if even she noticed..."

     Mira leaned forward, placing her head in her hands. Brynjolf, the sly sneak thief, spying on everyone. And apperently doing a damn good job if not even Karliah saw him doing it. Leliana could really use someone like him...There she went again. Thinking of the Inquisition. When at the moment, she didn't want to. She wanted to clear her head. Put it far in the back of her mind with everything else buried there.

     "You look like you got bit by a Skeever, lass." she heard Brynjolf say. She looked up at him, seeing his sparkling eyes, and their humor.

     He stood up. "Strip." he said, folding his arms. She gaped at him. "Go on then."

     She stood up, crossing her arms. "I don't think-"

     "You heard me." he said quietly, slowly stepping toward her. "Strip off the armor...everything...off."

     She bit her lip.

     Slowly she removed her armor, as Brynjolf watched every second of it. Interesting he should request such a thing, especially at a time like this. And nerve racking too. The night before he had done no more than kiss her, and fall asleep with her in the bed next to them. Both so exhausted, and stressed, and trying to process everything that had happened. But it was more than that. Both were still unsure of just how much they wanted to complicate things.

     Silently he watched her undress. Arms crossed, eyes never leaving her, eyeing her every move. Until she stood naked in front of him.

     "Lie down on your stomach." he instructed, and she eyed him quizzically. "Just do it, Mira." he pressed.

     With a small sigh she did as instructed, and turned to lay on the bed, face buried in the pillow, unsure of what to expect next. Then she heard a creak in the bed and felt him straddle her. A light rustle of fabric, then warm touch upon her back. He had removed his bracers as to properly massage her, running his hands from the base of her lower back, all the way up to her shoulders. And, my did it feel divine. Mira wagered not even immortals of Atherius could feel such pleasure from a simple back massage. She chuckled.

     "You've got me stark naked on a bed...and _this_ is what you do?" she asked, her voice muffled a bit from the pillow. Then she groaned as he hit a spot she desperately needed. She heard him snort a little.

     "I may be a thief, lass, but I'm still a gentleman." she could tell he was grinning.

     "Are you now?" she murmured.

     "Well, I can't say I'm not enjoying the view...But you looked like you needed it."

     "Oh I did." she groaned, as he hit another pleasurable spot, right between the dimples on her lower back.

     "I think you finally bit off more than what's chewable, love." he said. That made her roll over to stare up at him. He sighed. "By the gods, you're beautiful though." he smiled.

     "This is a lot bigger than taking down Mercer, isn't it?" she asked him, lacing her fingers in his, trying not to let her fears show, even in front of him.

     "I read something about you, you know." he said as he lay down ontop of her, wrapping his arm around her. Running his fingers through her hair, brushing it out of the way. Studying her features. "It started with a woman. No name, no family. Nothing but a scar on her cheek, covered in rags, about to be executed by Imperial soldiers. For being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Until a dragon showed up. Unbelievable it was, to think a dragon of all things could show up, in Skyrim. Not legend, not dead. There, in the flesh.

     This woman in rags escaped the dragon...and ran and found the nearest town to warn people of a dragon coming." he chuckled a little at whatever thought came to his mind. "This was no ordinary woman. This woman...was the very being from legend, destined to slay that damned dragon. And she did too. Travelled to the land of the dead to do it. And now she's here, in a new land, where the dragons are a bit bigger. But they're dragons, lass. And you're the damned Dragonborn. Slaying dragons was what you were born to do. Ka'tri was right all along wasn't he?"

     Kha'tri. The only father she ever knew. The Khajiit that turned her from an orphan into a fighter. The only family she ever had. Far closer to her than any Nords from Skyrim. And yes, he had been right...In her thoughts, a small tear slipped down her cheek, but Brynjolf quickly brushed it away as he kissed her.

     Yes, the dragons _were_ bigger in Thedas. But they were just damned dragons still.


	31. One World With Two Seperate Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas finds Cassandra arguing with Varric, and the encounter...changes everything.

     It wasn't that hard to distinguish between the soldiers and servants clambering about in the tavern, and the scuffling up stairs within it. Vilkas could almost hear precisely what Cassandra was screaming about. He knew as much as to say she was not happy with who the individual named Varric brought with him. She sounded downright furious.

     "You _lied_ to me!" she shrilled angrily at the shortest man Vilkas had ever seen in his life, aside from an actual child.

     "I didn't mean to lie to you, Seeker! I just...didn't tell you everything." he hung his head.

     Vilkas peaked up at them from the stairs.

     "You _knew_! This _whole_ time!...And you didn't think for once there was reason enough to tell me?!" she shoved him.

     "Hold a minute." Vilkas interrupted, charging up the steps, grabbing Cassandra's shoulder. "I don't know who this fellow is, but aren't you supposed to be on the same side?"

     "I _thought_ we _were_!" Cassandra wrenched away from Vilkas. "Hawke could have changed everything for us!...He could've-"

     "He could've what, Cassandra?!" snapped the short man, presumably Varric. "I didn't think it would matter, alright?" he stopped talking and looked up at Vilkas. "Shit, you're really...tall." he gaped. "One of Mira's friends, I'm guessing?"

     "Vilkas." he introduced himself curtly, then turned to Cassandra.

     "Charmed." said Varric, who also turned his attention back to her.

     "Whatever this is, it's obviously pointless. Fighting amonst one another never does a kinship any good." Vilkas spoke calmly, but firm enough for Cassandra to get the point.

     "I agree with the tall guy." said Varric, throwing up his hands, and seeing Vilkas as the perfect distraction to use to make his exit. He clambered angrily down the steps. Moving fairly quickly for one so little.

     "Pointless..." Cassandra muttered. "You don't even know. You _can't_ know...So you can't understand."

     "Well, make me then." Vilkas raised a brow, folding his arms, glaring. Waiting for an explanation. He couldn't help if he didn't have one. Cassandra sighed, and sat in the nearest chair.

     "Varric never told me where Hawke was hiding. Made me to believe he didn't know. Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. The man is a hero. He could've...if _he_ had been there...at the Conclave...maybe he could have..." she hung her head. "What does it matter now."

     "So you think this...Champion should have been at that temple that was destroyed. You believe he would have stopped it from happening?" Vilkas asked. She silently nodded.

     "I'm not inclined to believe that." Vilkas shook his head as he spoke. "I believe in Fate, remember?"

     Cassandra shrugged, a bit in defeat. "I'm not questioning Mira's leadership, or her abilities...or even the fact that she has that mark on her hand, regardless of title, but...If it had been Hawke instead..."

     "Well, there you have it. You're answer is already there. The Dragonborn possesses the mark that keeps demons from destroying your world. Not this...Hawke. Should it not be enough that the one who possesses it is on your side? In that case...would it matter _which one_  possessed it?"

     "Well no, but-"

     "You question all the wrong things, Lady Cassandra." Vilkas couldn't help but smirk a bit. "Instead of questioning who leads you, why not question _why_ it happened in the first place?" he strolled over to sit across from her, leaning forward, facing her eye to eye, though she wouldn't look up at him. Still angered. "This Elder One. So far it seems he was the one responsible for all this, yes? Why not worry about that instead. And stop worrying about this Hawke fellow, or questioning why the gods brought us all here. Eyes on the prey," he tilted her chin with his finger, so that she looked him in the eye. "Not the horizon."

     She swallowed. Her face was only an inch or two from his. For a second, he ran a finger across her cheek, where a scar interrupted the beauty of her features. Then he dropped his hand and sighed.

     "You know, sometimes you sound like Mira. Like...it's something she would say."  Cassandra looked away, scratching the back of her neck. Thinking. "And...it is the right thing to do...You are right. What is more important is that right now, Mira has closed the Breach, accepted the role of Inquisitor and..." the woman sighed again.

     "And you should stop worrying." he said. "No one that beautiful should worry so damned much. Have some faith."

     "And there it is again." she sat back in the chair. "I don't understand...What could you possibly find attractive in me?" she folded her arms and glared.

     "Well..." he leaned back in his own seat. "To start, from what I've heard you're brave, you're strong, intelligent, and you fight for what you believe in...and you're certainly not a spoiled princess who faints at the sight of blood. You're a _warrior_." he folded his arms. "And from what I see, you're a good woman. You have a heart, and it's in the right place. In truth I don't know what I'd like more. To fight along your side in battle or take you home and..."

     He stopped speaking. It was the look she gave him. Confused, or unsure perhaps, or surprised or...whatever it was. It made him feel like he said too much. As if what he relayed to her wasn't a welcomed notion. He stood up then, figuring it a good time to leave her be. But she stood up as well.

     "What _would_ you do, Vilkas?" she asked. "If...if both of us were..."

     "If both of us were from the same world?" he asked. She nodded. "I think perhaps we are, Lady Cassandra. We just...live in different parts of it. And the parts are... _very_ far away."

     With those words, the sad truth that maybe he might have to accept, that though they were kindred in spirit, maybe she didn't think it was enough to go on. He turned once more to leave...But, once more, he heard her shy voice behind him.

     "You...you said you believe in fate." he turned around. "Do you think it could be possible that...Perhaps...I don't know..." she hung her head.

     Oh he _certainly_ believed it was possible. At that moment, with all his heart. The way she made him feel, that he found a kindred soul on the other side of the universe? Hiding in a place called Thedas? Damned right he felt like it was fate. And if it were possible she felt the same...

     Without wasting a breath he walked over, slipped an arm around her waist and kissed the woman in front of him. Lifting her up off her feet, as short as she was compared to him. He felt her gasp in surprise in his mouth, though it didn't take long at all for her to wrap her arms around his neck. Perhaps she felt like if she didn't, she'd fall to the floor, the way she clung to him. And Talos preserve him, for he highly doubted any woman back in Skyrim could feel that soft.

     The underarmor she wore did little to hide how hot she became in his arms. And his own body rose in temperature, as if his blood was on fire. He hadn't felt anything like it since joining the Circle, tasting the blood of the beast, becoming a wolf that hunted in the night. But those days were long gone, and this was far better. Like waking from a haze, and tasting honey. Like a boy holding aloft a sword and realizing his purpose as a warrior.

     He desperately didn't want it to end, but he knew if he didn't stop, he'd lay her down on the table behind them and take her right there. And he certainly wanted to. It was almost torture how she felt pressed against him. He could feel her soft curves under the clothing she wore, and could imagine how the rest of her felt.

     But he wasn't entirely certain how women in Thedas felt about such things without marriage first. There had been nothing mentioned around him in regards to this Chantry or this Andraste they worshipped condoning such behavior. Of course, he never had a reason to ask and find out either. It seemed highly inappropriate when surrounded by a castle full of people in a different realm. But surely they did talk about such things.

     He pulled away and started to set her down, realizing how out of breath, and quite strained he had become. Her as well.

     "I'm...sure there is work to be done." he said. He looked down to see flushed cheeks, breasts rising and falling rapidly in her shortness of breath.

     "Yes, I...I'm sure there is...something to be done." she put a hand to her forehead, wiping sweat from her brow. She was just as worked up as he. He had to have more. Just a bit more...before he completely came to his senses.

     He moved to hold her face in his hands, and once more slipped his tongue past her teeth, into her mouth. A bit slower than before, not wanting to waste it. Savoring the taste. He may no longer be the wolf, but perhaps he was an animal still. Hungry and wanting, and desperate.

     He found her, on the other side of the cosmos, beyond Atherius, beyond the reach of the gods...and now he had to let go, for just a moment longer. Before anyone noticed their disappearance and came looking for them. Not that he wanted, or felt he needed to hide but...there was enough going on already. Better to be satisfied for the moment that he had...something. Some part of it anyway. Though, he wasn't sure exactly what it was that he wanted.

     Just her. All he knew was...just her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sneak attack kisses. Gotta love em)


	32. Out On The Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian meets the Qunari warrior, Iron Bull, Blackwall is tempted to reveal his past to Aela, and Mira has another heart to heart with Brynjolf, out on the Storm Coast.

     Mira Ironhide was determined to make full use of the Inquisition's contacts and resources, and no one was going to argue with her on that. The more they could accomplish in this brief 'eye of the storm', as Solas called it, the better prepared they would be in later days, when the location of the Elder One was learned, and a way to stop him was formulated.

     One of the most immediate things on the to-do list was to make a journey to the Storm Coast. Mira had received an invite, to see the Bull's Chargers in action, an elite mercenary group, that offered their services to the Inquisition. They had made inquiries before hand, to judge whether or not they could be trusted, and it seemed they, as was common for mercenaries, would offer their services, and loyalty, based on price, and there was little else to tell.

     Warden Blackwall offered to go on the expedition, as he mentioned he was familiar with the area and it's landscape, and the Tamrielan named Aela offered as well. She wanted to see more of this Thedas she was in, as it was apperent to her and her comrades that they would be stuck in this land for some time. Brynjolf was of similar mind, though judging by his apparent history with the 'dragon' Inquisitor, he was more likely going because of her. Though the other hooded figure, the dark skinned elf, declined, and chose to remain at Skyhold, and no one knew why. She rarely spoke.

     And Dorian Pavus _begged_ to go. He had to get away from that dark elf named Neloth, who perused through the castle's library in curiosity of Thedas. He was dreadful in Dorian's opinion. Had nothing to do with his frightening appearance, his gleaming red eyes and sharp, jaunted features. No, it was his attitude. It was the fact that though he was useful enough in sharing the history and cultural differences of Skyrim, which in Dorian's opinion it seemed their realms were similar than one would guess...He was just...insulting.

     A ghastly superiority complex. And a droll and demeaning tone. So rather than Dorian suffer a minute longer in the elf's presence, he'd suffer traveling to the Coast, sleeping in a damp tent, with the cold, rain, and mud...completely out of character, he admitted to himself. But it was better than the alternative. Plus, he was bored. Nothing interesting had happened since Haven, and then the arrival of these people from Skyrim.

     So there he was, staff latched to his back, trudging through the muck with Mira and her companions, depressed at the gloomy sky and its thick clouds covering from above.

     Blackwall split from the group at the southern encampment to scout the next ridge, for bandits were rumored to be casing the area. Aela followed, claiming to be a skilled hunter, and evidently a good archer. Dorian was most certain she took to the Warden though. Then it was him, Brynjolf, and Mira, headed down to the beach, where the Chargers were supposed to be camped.

     Immediately there was trouble.

     Someone was fighting ahead of them, Inquisition's scouts scuffled with some cutthroats, and others, presumably the mercenaries, joined the fight. Dorian wasted no time in drawing his staff, conjuring a protective barrier for himself and the others closest to him, and shooting bouts of fire at the bandits. He glanced over to see Brynjolf flying through the air and taking out an enemy in good form with his daggers. True rogue fashion. Quite becoming of the redhead. Then Dorian saw Mira swing her giant sword and knock two fellows to the ground. It seemed they would win the fight.

     There was a rather large Qunari among them. Apparently Mira didn't know which side he was on, because Dorian saw her plant her feet and suck in a breath. He'd seen this once before, back in Redcliffe, and knew what the dragon meant to do.

    "Yol tor shul!" the Inquisitor shouted at the giant, before Dorian could stop her. The Qunari dodged the blast of fire ensued, barely missing it. He stood up, brushing himself off, a small wisp of smoke floating up from one of his horns. He scoured.

     "Holy shit, did you just _breathe fire_ at me?!" he exclaimed, and Mira straighened her stance and leaned on her sword like a cane.

     "Shor's bones! It can _talk_!" she bellowed, blue eyes widened. The Qunari growled and started to charge.

     "Wait!" snapped Dorian as he put up a hand to stop the Qunari, barely able to hold him back, but that wasn't what stopped the giant. What stopped was probably the sheer fact that someone was touching the brute, and someone was brave enough to get in his way. Dorian froze for a moment, assessing the creature. Tall, grayish tinted skin, dampened from the drizzle that fell, and sweat from fighting. He looked up at his face. Two large horns jutting out, a patch over one eye, and the other...quite...fetching, though filled with a mix of confusion and interest.

     Dorian realized he was still touching him, and he pulled his hand away. "You're Iron Bull, I presume. The leader of Bull's Chargers, yes?" he asked, his words coming out quickly with nervousness.

     "What, the _horns_ gave it away?" Iron Bull asked gruffly, sarcastic, but not smiling. Still disturbed by being attacked. "Tevinter, I see...so who the hell are _you_?"

     "Dorian Pavus, at your service. We are with the Inquisition. And _that_..." he gestured to Mira. "...is the Inquisitor. Mira Ironhide. Terribly sorry about the confusion, ole chap." he smiled tentatively. Bull grunted and continued to glare at Mira. This wouldn't bode well. "Perhaps...we should take a seat and discuss this proposition of yours, to join the Inquisition. That is...if you still _would_."

     Bull turned his gaze back to Dorian, assessing him for a moment. Then he shrugged, and moved to sit on a bench nearby. Dorian followed. Well, at least he was willing to talk to him.

     "To be fair, I thought he was a frost troll." he heard Mira say to someone, probably Brynjolf.

     The warriors present cleaned up and brushed themselves off, kicking the dead bodies to the side, as Dorian casually sat across from the Iron Bull, crossing one leg over the other, and gingerly laying his staff down at his side.

     "So, the rumors are true. The leader of the Inquisition breathes fire." Bull raised a brow. Dorian nodded. "So who are you? Her negotiator then?"

     "At the moment." he shrugged. "I thought it a better idea if you and I had a little chat...the Inquisitor isn't familiar with your people...as you can see."

     Bull chuckled. "You've got balls, Tevinter. Coming between me and your lady friend like that." he folded his arms. "I'm surprised."

     "I'm assuming you're surprised because of the history our people have with one another?" Dorian raised a brow, and Bull nodded. So he leaned forward in his seat. "Look, to be honest, I don't really _care_ about the problems our people have with one another. In fact, I don't really care about my _people_ at the moment. I have a bigger problem. As do we all. So let's get down to business, shall we?...These Chargers of yours. Why the high price in your letter?"

     "Well, aren't _you_ something." Bull snickered again. Then he leaned forward as well. "First, you're not just getting the boys...you're getting _me_. You saw us fight, we can hold our own, and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us. As long as _she's_ the only thing breathing fire at us, the deal still stands."

     "Well...there is the possibility of an archdemon in the mix." Dorian winced a litttle.

     "A dragon? Oh, that I can handle." he smirked. "But _people_ breathing fire...now that's just disturbing."

     "Of that, I whole heartedly agree." Dorian confirmed. "So, that's it then?"

     "Not entirely." the Qunari leaned back, eyeing Dorian for a moment. "There's a bit more to it. But I'm sure it's worth it...ever hear of the Ben Hassrath?"

     Dorian shifted in his chair in slight discomfort.

     "I see you have. They're putting me in to get information on the Inquisition, but I can also _give_ information. That could work out quite well for your outfit, if you don't mind the association." Bull smiled a bit, as if he knew how uncomfortable he made Dorian feel, so he shrugged it off.

     "Well then, I suppose that could be useful...it _does_ have it's benefits..." Dorian mused. "So it's an agreement then?" Bull nodded, then stood up, so Dorian stood as well to shake his large hand. Bull's eyes lingered on him still, and for the life of him, the Tevinter mage couldn't figure out why. "...to Skyhold then." he muttered.

     "Are... _you_ returning to Skyhold with them?" he gestured to Mira and Brynjolf sitting nearby, watching them.

     "Yes...that doesn't deter you, does it?" Dorian asked carefully. Bull still had hold of his hand, and leaned in close.

     "Not in the slightest." he muttered, then straightened. "Krem! Start packing it up!" he yelled to one of the mercs.

     "But we just opened the casks, sir! With _axes_!" he yelled back.

     "Well, drink 'em on the way. The Chargers just got hired." he grinned.

     Dorian had a strange feeling about this Qunari, but he couldnt quite put a finger on what it was. A bit frightening, every bit as intimidating as Qunari usually were. Big and bulky and...well, this one was sort of attractive. He had a way about him that made him seem sort of fearless. He imagined Bull would get along quite well with Mira, once he got to know her...But would he mind Dorian's company so much?

     His kind had quite the history with the Tevinter Imperium. Not that Dorian cared, for at the moment, it was far more imperative that he concern himself with the benefit of the Inquisition. This Elder One, he learned, who called himself Corypheus, was rumored to be unstoppable.

     Even Garret Hawke, the rebel mage, though technically no longer a rebel...just more of a...well, no one was quite sure if liaisons of the Inquisition were considered rebels or not, considering both King Alastair in Ferelden, and the Empress of Orlais, currently condoned the Inquisition, even if the Chantry did not, as long as they meant to combat demons, and not them...but anyhow, Hawke spoke of scuffling with Corypheus, and thought he killed him. And further research on Dorian's part led to the name of Corypheus being much older...a thousand year old name. If it was the same person, and his source was correct, this Corypheus was once a Magister...not just any nameless darkspawn.

     They were going to need any help they could get. This wasn't going to be just anyone's problem. Just like the Breach had been, this would become _everyone's_ problem. Noble and commoner alike. Even the Ben Hassrath obviously had concern, if they sent Iron Bull.

     Dorian had little care for anything else at the moment, save for a few moments of peace in between, and distraction from the more bothersome people at Skyhold. He wasn't sure of Bull would prove bothersome or not, but his size and combat skills would certainly be needed. With everything Mira informed them of possibly taking place...all out war would need the best soldiers. And the biggest.

     Of course, being the caddy individual he was, Dorian briefly wondered if Bull was that big _everywhere_ , as they made their way back up the hill to the encampment.

* * *

     For the first few paces, Blackwall was cautious, as was Aela, but at her assurance that there was no danger near, both seemed to relax a little as they made their way up to the next ridge, making note of the landscape, tracks that were as new as a few weeks old, and belonging to a person, not a creature. The bandits probably moved on from the area, and all seemed clear at the moment. Aela silently followed Blackwall up an incline, curious of his actions, but he chose not to relent to her his reasons why just yet.

      He had a lot of history with this place. No one knew exactly what that entailed, but he knew. He still remembered exactly how it played out, and as he stood there up on that ridge, looking out at the view, the memory played over and over in his mind. The fight that took place, the struggle, the emotion.

     He believed Aela deserved to know. He would probably regret telling her, and he highly doubted anyone in the Inquisition would trust him when they learned of his deception, but it was time he got it off his chest. He didn't know if Aela guessed he had an alterior motive for bringing her up there, but when he turned and saw her face...everything changed. Every thought left his head entirely.

     She was a beautiful creature. She had been watching him as he mused upon where they stood. The Inquisition granted her a simple but sturdy hunting bow, and a quiver to boot, it was laced to her back, and her arms were folded behind her. Her coat, and reddish hair fluttered in the wind, her expression tranquil, and serene. A tiny smile formed at the corner of her full and pouting lips.

     "This was my life before the Inquisition." he said casually, and she merely leaned her head to the side, listening. "Ancient ruins, endless battles...death." he stated.

     "I imagine you've seen many things out here." she observed. "Things that you'd...rather not share. Things you've done." she stepped closer, and stood next to him as he turned back to the view of the coast to the east of them. The milky sky and crashing waves onto the beach below the mountain.

     "For one who met me recently, you know me so well." he chuckled, glancing down at his feet for a moment, then savoring the brief silence. She was standing close enough that when the wind blew, he caught a slight wisp of her earthy scent. Then he heard her warm laugh, in reply to his statement.

     "I would know that look anywhere, Warden." she said evenly. "Men like you have a past. Soldiers that have seen war for what it truly is...not like the boys that have joined this Inquisition with fire still in their eyes, and their hearts. That fire is needed...but they're still wet behind the ears. Unlike people like us."

     "Us?...And what have you gotten yourself into back at home, Huntress? Seen some things as a Companion?" his eyebrows raised, betraying his sudden interest. Glad of the distraction from his own past.

     She frowned. No longer was her expression calm. Her brow furrowed, and she stared straight ahead.

     "...There are things in my world...Creatures. Beings that...cannot be explained. They prowl and prey on innocents. They...wait in the shadows."

     "These creatures." he began. "You've seen them?" he glanced at her. He saw her swallow nervously.

     "Yes. I have seen them." she said. "They've claimed many lives."

     "And you were helpless to stop them." Blackwall said. He understood the feeling. Helplessness. He knew it well. Aela turned to him.

     "People like us are rare, Warden." she said. "People who understand. What's waiting out there...the storm brewing on the other side of the calm waters."

     She spoke in metaphor, but her words held strong meaning. There _was_ a storm brewing. Everything he had seen...war and the slaughter of innocent lives...it would only get worse, much worse, in the days to come. And on the otherside of the cosmos, there was another world, her own world, that awaited the same fate.

     Did it matter who he used to be before?...When there were more important things at hand? No, he wouldn't tell her of his past. At least not today. Right now, the only thing that mattered was this moment of peace he felt with the woman standing next to him. He would find a way to live with himself, however he could. And Aela...she made him feel like it didn't matter anyway. It didn't matter who he was before. It only mattered that he was there now.

     With her.

     "You're unlike any woman I've ever met." he said quietly, as she gazed up at him. Her striking features softened for a moment. She smiled a little.

     "I'm unlike any woman you'll ever _know_." she leaned her head to the side again, pale eyes glittering. She bit her lips a little.

     Blackwall was tempted to kiss her...but whatever was holding him back didn't matter...she did it for him.

     She barely had to raise up to do so, almost eye to eye with him already. A warrior, a huntress, from Skyrim...he half expected a rough and forceful, heated kiss...it was none of that. Slow, light, and gentle. Careful. She brought her hand up to his cheek, warmly stroking his beard as she tortured him with her lovely kiss.

     It was probably a stupid thing for them to do, but it seemed neither cared. Blackwall slipped an arm around her waist and she stepped closer, pressing against him. Even through the clothing they wore, Blackwall could feel her heart beating, just a bit quicker...but then she stopped. Came to her senses probably. She pulled away, and he let her. He tried to still himself.

     "We should probably..." her breathing was a little heavy. "We should stop."

     Blackwall cleared his throat, and scratched his chin. There was awkward silence for a moment as Aela breathed slowly in through her nose, out through her mouth and looked up at him. He hung his head.

    "I'm sorry." he said. "I shouldn't-"

     "No. I'm the one who...I just...I-" she stopped talking.

     "We should report back to the others." he said, silently cursing himself. She probably was too. Maker's balls...why did she have to be so beautiful...couldn't Mira have chosen _uglier_ women to befriend? He sighed as he and the Huntress finished casing the area before clearing out.

* * *

     That night on the Coast, Mira sat on a bedroll, legs bent, elbows propped on them, helmet and sword at her side. She chuckled at whatever she was thinking about when Brynjolf entered the tent.

     "What do you find so amusing, lass?" he asked her as he joined her on the floor. It was dark out, and much rest would be needed before they made their journey back to Skyhold in the morning, as the Coast was properly garrasoned, and the bandit problem solved. Not a rift in sight either, thanks to Mira's mark, which did indeed close them, and a fine sight too see. Not the demons that popped out though. Scaring the living daylights out of the thief. He had to fight from yawning after the adventure they shared.

     "I Shouted at the person we were looking for, thinking he was a troll, Brynjolf." she chuckled. "I'm never going to hear the end of it when we get back."

     "No, probably not. But hey, I've done worse. You know I once broke into Mistveil Keep and got caught by the Jarl?...And she let me go after I stripped _naked_ for her?...I never heard the end of it from Delvin." he shook his head.

     "Yes, I believe he told me about that...of course, he said you _slept_ with the Jarl, to be fair." Mira nudged his shoulder playfully. "...I once knocked my housecarl off a cliff thinking she as a bandit..."

     "You're kidding." she shook her head.

     "I wish I was...but she lived though. Wasn't that far of a drop. It took more than that to get that one down. A few months later she _was_ killed though, sadly. Fending off a giant."

     Brynjolf shook his head again.

     "We've seen some things back home these people of Thedas would never believe, haven't we?" she asked him. He shrugged.

     "I don't know, lass." he replied. "The more and more I think about it, the more I think we're not so different from them. Not everything is the same...but some things about this place...they feel like home."

     "Like what?" she laid back on the mat beneath her, propping herself up to still look at him.

     "You, for one. You're here. Right now, that's all that matters. I love you, Mira." he said. "I should've told you a long time ago."

     She sat back up. It was hard to read her expression in the dark, but it wasn't hard to guess.

     "I always thought there would be more time...and there was always something-" he started to say.

     "-More important." she finished. He sighed and nodded.

     "It's not like I'm saying we should go home and get hitched and have a dozen children, or I expect you to cook and fetch me slippers, lass. I just-"

     She shut him up by kissing him. And by the gods it felt lovely. They way she didn't hesitate to plant her lips on his, almost knocking him backwards, jumping into his arms. He loved it. He loved _her_.

     "I would." she said when she pulled away a little. "And we can have _two_ dozen children. I don't care how many." he could tell she was smiling again. "I loved you the moment I met you, Bryn." she said.

     "Now if we can just get _home_." he said.

     "We will." she affirmed. "I'll find a way. In the meantime, I'm glad you're here with me. I...I needed you."

     "I know, lass. I still remember that young woman in leather armor barreling into me at the marketplace, you know. I remember who you were before all this." he brushed a lock of hair from her face.

     "All these people know is that I'm Dragonborn." she said heavy hearted. "That I have a mark of magic on my hand that can save them. They think I'm a hero, and nothing more." she sighed. "That's all they need to know. For that's what I intend to do, if I can."

     "And I will be there, Mira." Brynjolf touched his forehead to hers. "You have my word, lass. I won't leave your side. I'm _not_ making that mistake twice. No matter what happens. That Elder One creature can kiss my shining white Nordic ass."

     All Mira could do was laugh.


	33. While You Were Away...

      Sister Leliana decided to keep tabs on the residents of Skyhold while the Inquisitor was away. Here is some of what transpired before Mira Ironhide's return...

* * *

     With Mira gone, it was still business as usual, and just as usual, Serana found Cullen in his office in the tower at Skyhold. She expected to drop in and find him leaned over his desk, rubbing his temple as he poured over paper work. But he wasn't. That particular day he was...pacing. Disturbed by something, and Serana was curious as to what it was.

     She folded her arms and silently approached. He was so distracted he almost didn't hear her enter the office. Then he noticed her and quickly whipped around to face her, looking flustered.

     "Miss Serana...I...um..." he stammered.

     "Is everything all right, Commander?" she asked, raising a brow.

     "I'm fine, I just..." he sighed and shook his head, as if he didn't really want to answer.

     "You know, I'm usually pretty good at reading people, right? Well, you're an open book, Cullen. I can tell something's wrong. Care to share?" she walked over to him. He backed away a little bit. Perhaps it was instinctual, he didn't even seem to notice he had done so. He walked over to his desk.

     "Where to begin." he said. "I...feel comfortable with you, Miss Serana, like I could tell you anything." his gaze softened for a moment. "But, I'm not sure this is something you'll understand."

     She leaned against the table and looked up at him. "Try me." she smirked. He sighed, and nodded.

     "The Order I belonged to before the Inquisition, the Templars...we were tasked with guarding the mages in the Circles of Magi. And later, when they rebelled, we were the ones that hunted them down." he sighed, rubbing his temple. "Templars are able to subdue mages through Lyrium. A serum that grants us abilities. Makes us superfluous hunters, but it's highly addictive, I'm afraid..." he rubbed his neck. "I've stopped taking it...I can't allow myself to be part of that life any longer."

     "Addictive substances, huh?" Serana leaned her head to the side. "It seems to me that wouldn't bother you unless it were dangerous, am I right?" he nodded in response. "What could happen if you've stopped taking this...Lyrium, Cullen?"

     He sighed again, blowing a gust of breath out of his nose, clenching his jaw as he leaned over the table. Fidgeting. Brow furrowed as he stared down at the desk.

     "Hey, it's alright. Your choice is your own to make. Whatever you think is best to do, if you want my opinion. And I think _Mira_ would say the same thing. As well as your friends here."

     "I would become a hindrance to the Inquisition...or...it could kill me." Cullen remarked. Serana chuckled a bit. He looked up.

     "I wasn't laughing at you." she assured. "I just...I've been through a lot...and I mean _a lot_. Seen a lot of things. But one thing I'm a little too familiar with...brushes with death. When you've been around as long as I have..."

     "What do you mean by that?" Cullen wrinkled his brow. "And I thought _I_ was the one who wouldn't make any sense."

     Serana sighed. "Alright, if I tell you, will you promise me you won't tell the others about this? Mira's the only one who knows...I mean, what are the odds you'd believe me anyway, right?" she cleared her throat. "I know what it's like to go through so much pain you can't bear it, Cullen. And I know what it's like to be addicted to something." she walked around the desk to him. "You feel like you'll die without it...Or in my case, maybe you actually _will_. And how good it feels when, after centuries of sleep, you finally get that first taste of blood..." she trailed off, remembering when she first woke up from her sleep, and found Mira...or, Mira found her. She couldn't remember. It was all a haze.

     " _Blood_?" Cullen asked. Serana looked up. She had said that out loud, hadn't she?

     "Yes." she admitted. "Vampirism. Cursed to become the undead, walk the earth for eternity, craving human blood." she folded her arms. Cullen backed up.

     "That's...that sounds disturbing..." he said, slightly alarmed.

     "Wait, it's alright." she assured. Then she grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her chest. "Feel that? That's my heartbeat. I'm _alive_. Not the living dead anymore." she chuckled a little. "I'm _human_ , Cullen."

     "Is...that why your eyes are yellow? Because you were cursed?" he asked. She shrugged.

     "They weren't always. Side effect of being cured. Maybe they'll go back to normal one day. I don't know, honestly, but...The point is, I still remember what it felt like being cursed...For _so_ long. It's not a feeling I would wish on anyone...And all the people I hurt along the way...I wouldn't want that to be you. I didn't have a choice, but you do. Don't take that Lyrium stuff. Resist it. Fight it. Because if you give in?...You're right back where you don't want to be. And if you want, I'll keep an eye on you. Help you, if I can. I won't let anything happen to you."

     There was a moment of silence as Cullen considered everything she just said. Then both of them realized his hand was still there where she brought it up to prove to him her heart did indeed beat. Then she felt it skip a beat. They were very close to one another, closer in that moment than they ever had been.

     Abruptly, he leaned in and kissed her, pressing his lips against hers feverishly. It felt insanely good, but just as abruptly as he had done so, he pulled away.

     "I'm sorry...I...that was..." he mumbled.

     Oh no. No, she wasn't going to give him the chance to feel sorry about that. Before he could continue speaking she laced her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Pressing her dark lips to his, not letting him escape a second time. He felt so good, so warm. Tentatively his tongue slipped into her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her in. Her heart raced. She never felt anything like this back home. Never had she met anyone like Cullen though. So tall, handsome, but awkward and shy, and hesitant, until that kiss. He kissed her like a man _should_ kiss, with passion and depth.

     The way his tongue probed her, then teeth gently nipping her lip. The way his breath was slightly unsteady, and he trembled a little, perhaps from lack of Lyrium, but most likely from the excitement.

     It was probably a very terrible thing for them to do, but there was nowhere else Serana wanted to be. She'd waited centuries for something like this...

* * *

     Josephine had apologized to Sera, as per order of the Inquisitor. But Sera would not take mere apology. She proposed that if Josephine wanted her forgiveness, she'd have to earn it...by _climbing out on a roof_.

     Josephine was nervous of heights, but they weren't that far from the ground, and she wagered she could survive the fall, but nonetheless, there she was, sitting on a roof top in a secluded area of the hold with the rascally elf. Mira had ordered her to try and get along with Sera, try to see things from her perspective. So there she was. Though she didn't really see where climbing out windows and perching on shingles would help her do so.

     Turned out, Sera had made her cookies. Perhaps to make up for spilling water on her, but regardless it was...a nice gesture, actually. Though the cookies themselves tasted absolutely dreadful, it was the thought that counted, wasn't it? Sera proceeded to tell her of growing up with a human woman who was horrible at baking. And rather than admit to her failures she made Sera think the baker hated her so that she would never go near him and find out he baked the cookies for the lady of the household. Sera called them pride cookies. She hated pride.

     After that little venture Josephine paced in her quarters. She had done well enough to make up with Sera it seemed, but...she wanted to see her again. She couldn't explain it, really. The way she felt around Sera, the way she smiled at her, it made her blush. She wanted to do something nice in return for Sera, something to show her she wanted to be friends. But she honestly had no idea what the elf would even like. She was so pragmatic.

     But she liked her drawings. Silly little doodles they were, absentminded musing in her free time. But she did like them...

     Sometime later, Josephine ventured to the tavern to look for the blonde pragmatic elf, skirting individuals within that eyed her strangely. They very rarely saw a nobles such as herself in places like that. Josephine had to ignore her sudden embarrassment, push through it, and climbed the steps to Sera's room, where she found her sitting on a cushioned bench, staring out the window, humming. Josephine knocked on the doorframe, and Sera looked up.

     "May...I come in?" Josephine asked. Sera nodded.

     "Never thought I'd see _you_ here." Sera giggled. Josephine swallowed nervously.

     "I...well, I just wanted to..." she stumbled over her words. Sera got up and walked over to her.

     "Shy, are we? That isn't like you." she smirked. "You write your fancy letters and chat it up with other bigwigs all day long...What's the matter?" she raised a brow and folded her arms.

     "I...just wanted to give you this." Josephine held out the paper. "I didn't know what else to do, so..." Sera took the paper and looked at it.

     "Wow, that looks like me alright. You...drew a picture of me?" she giggled. "Looks pretty good too, yeh?...Hang on...Why?" she looked up.

     "You...did something nice for me, I just wanted to...return the gesture." Josephine tried to straighten up, and not look quite so embarrassed. She couldn't tell if Sera liked it or not. "I'd like to be friends." she smiled a little.

     Sera chuckled a little. "Not so grumpy and stuffy today, yeh?...I guess you _are_ perfect then." she smiled. Josephine cleared her throat. Sera just called her perfect. On her life, she'd never received such a compliment. And she had received _many_ compliments over the years.

     But then again, she had never met someone so...Well, she didn't really have a word for Sera. She was quite simple, in a way. The way she didn't want to take things too seriously. Enjoy the little things, Josephine guessed, in the event that the world should end and they'd never get the chance to enjoy anything at all. She very much approved of kindness, and mercy, and both were good qualities. Josephine could tell by the way she got along with the Inquisitor. And even the Inquisitor herself said that Sera meant well.

     "Do...you like the picture?" she asked Sera.

     "Of course I do, silly." she giggled. "Just didn't expect it. Suppose I should say thanks, though...So...thanks."

     "You are...quite welcome." Josephine smiled, trying desperately to hide how tense she was at the moment. "I should leave you be, and return to my work." she nodded, then turned to leave.

     "You should smile more often, Lady Josephine." she heard Sera say. "It's pretty nice. I like it." it made her turn back around. When she did so she could see the elf grinning from ear to ear, eyes sparkling. She had a nice smile too.

     "Thank you. So is yours." Josephine said, then she backed out of the room, not taking her eyes off the elf, mesmerized by her gaze. She could feel herself blush again. Then she tripped a little over a loose board, and took off down the hall in embarrassment...

     ...And it was back to pacing once she reached the safety of her quarters. My, how foolish it was for her to behave in such a way. Very unbecoming of her. And what bothered her more was the fact that she couldn't for the life of her figure out why Sera made her feel this way...

* * *

     Freja was not small, or fragile by any means. In fact, she looked just as intimidating as the Inquisitor herself. Tall, though not as tall as Mira Ironhide, somewhat muscular in build, like a warrior. Striking features. Blonde hair that hung over her shoulders, and swayed in the breeze. Beautiful, as far as Garret Hawke was concerned.

     She was quiet. She spoke very little to anyone, perhaps uncomfortable by being surrounded by strangers. Varric had mentioned that the allies of the Inquisitor were from a land very far from Thedas, and very different from it as well. People gave Freja strange looks when she passed them, the same as the others from her homeland. Hawke could understand. He was a mage. Very separated from the people of Skyhold, and Thedas, and though the Inquisitor allied with mages, they were still rebels, and perceived as dangerous, even to the Inquisition's supporters, according to enchanter Fiona.

     Freja didn't seem to notice that about him. When he coaxed her over to where he leaned against the ramparts of the castle, she ignored his staff completely. Perhaps magic was viewed differently in her country, or she herself was a mage. She slowly walked over and leaned against the stone beside him.

     "Tell me about your home." he said. "I'm curious of it. Varric tells me you are from...a place very far from here. Perhaps a different realm _entirely_." he chuckled a little at the thought. Freja leaned her head in interest.

     "You don't think that's possible." she said. "You think that myself, and Mira's allies are all daft." she eyed him with scrutiny. She had a beautiful accent when she spoke. Such a soft voice as well.

     "I don't think it matters what I think. But I've seen things in my travels. Many things people would wager impossible. It's hard not to believe the impossible when you've seen what I've seen." he shrugged. "So, what's it like? This...Skyrim?"

     "Very different from Thedas. But I'm not from Skyrim." she said. "I'm from Solstheim. It's an island in the north, across the Sea of Ghosts. It was once a part of Skyrim, but is now a province of Morrowind. I've lived there all my life with my people." she looked over at him. "It's a lot colder there." she smirked. "What of you? Where are you from, Hawke?"  
 

     "All over, it seems, these days." he said jokingly. "Lothering. But I called Kirkwall home too before it was destroyed...And I don't suppose you know where those places are, do you?" he raised a brow. She shook her head. "Well, to be honest, I have no idea where Skyrim is...or Solse...Solstem?"

     "Solstheim." she smiled. She had a beautiful smile. "We're both far from home, aren't we?" she asked.

     Hawke couldn't pull himself away from her gaze. There were plenty of other things he should be thinking about at the moment. None of them should've been whisking her away to some place unseen and...

     "I'm very sorry yours was destroyed. I nearly lost my people to ancient and dangerous forces. If not for Mira, I...feared the worst. She saved my people. I owe her my life."

     "She's quite heroic, then?" he asked, and Freja nodded.

     "We are all here because of her. We owe her a debt..." she stood up then. "I shall trouble you no more, Hawke." she bowed a little.

     "Garret." he said. Then watched as she bit her lip. "I hope this isn't the last time I see you." he stood up as well, and stepped closer to her. She smiled a little.

     "I hope that as well...You're different than the other's here. You don't look at me like I'm..."

     "Different?" he finished. "You _are_ different...but it's in a good way."

     She blushed.

* * *

     Karliah avoided Solas like the plague.

     It wasn't fair, honestly, for either of them, if they got involved with one another. But more so, she felt guilty. That she turned him away because her heart belonged to another. Gallus had been gone for twenty five years, but she knew he would wait for her in the Evergloom, and one day they would reunite. Perhaps sooner than either would ever care to know. But she felt guilty that she didn't tell Solas sooner. That the elf had to compete with someone who was no longer living, and if he knew that, it would probably hurt more.

     He probably only fancied her because they were different. Because she was different. She wasn't like the other elves in Skyhold. She and Neloth were a race separate from them by entire worlds.

     But he found her small bit of refuge out on the ledge, and now she needed to find a new place to hide. That night, while everyone slept, save for a few night watchmen guarding the keep, she wandered across the ramparts, searching for a perch fit for a Nightingale.

     There was one other that was awake still. And she aimed to avoid this man like the plague as well. Jarl Ulfric, oddly, was awake, and leaned over the wall, staring out at something. She didn't know what. And she didn't ask. She merely crept past, skirting behind him, as quietly as she could.

     "Sneaking around in the middle of the night, eh?" she heard him say. Dammit. She hoped he wouldn't notice her. "Very typical for your kind, isn't it?"

     That made her turn around. "What do you mean?" she asked, squinting at him. He didn't look up from where he stared at the night sky.

     "You're a Nightingale. Didn't take long for me to figure out, you know. Sneaking around at this hour?...Can't sleep either?" he looked up at her. She stepped toward him, arms folded, looking him up and down.

     "So, that was a jab at my being a criminal then. And not one at the fact that I'm a Dunmer." she huffed. "That's surprising."

     "What are you talking about?" he stood up. She rolled her eyes.

     "Oh come on, Ulfric. You can't be that dense. I know how Dark Elves are treated in Windhelm." she leaned in close. "The _only_ reason I haven't knocked an arrow with your name on it is because you're here to help Mira. I couldn't give a damn about you otherwise. I hope you get _eaten by a dragon_ when we get back." she spat. Then she turned to walk away. But she didn't get very far when she heard Ulfric speak.

     "I'm...sorry, Karliah." he said. She turned around. He was standing upright with his arms laced, and she couldn't read his expression. She walked back over to him.

     "You're sorry?" she asked, eyeing him in disbelief. She had just threatened his life and he was...sorry?

     "Hard to believe?" he asked, per usual, his face twisted in a permanent scour. "I admire your courage. And your _honesty_." he smirked. It was his turn to lean in close. "But do remember that we're both far from home, Nightingale. With no way to get back. Here, we're _both_ the outcasts." he turned away and leaned over the stone wall once more. His words were meant as a warning. But Karliah only blinked. What he said was true, no point in arguing that. So she kept silent regarding that subject.

     "I'm a soldier." he said suddenly. "I was taught my whole life to fight. When you're too busy fighting an empire, you fail to keep an eye on everything else. I cannot control the actions of every person in my city at every moment. It voids the very point of freedom."

     "It's not just the townsfolk, Ulfric. It's your guards as well. They're crooked. They turn a blind eye towards mistreatment of anyone who isn't a Nord. I can understand you don't want to take the free will of your people. But they've already done so with mine. Mine have no choice. They have nowhere else to go. You _can_ do something about it...Though, you wouldn't take the word of a lowly criminal, would you?"

     "None of it matters if we can't get home." he said. Then he sighed.

     "Mira will figure something out." she assured. Then she leaned against the stone next to him. "She believes in you. For whatever reason I have no idea, but...she does. And if we get back, and you plan on ruling Skyrim...You can't be elected High King if you can't govern one city."

     "Are you usually this blunt with people?" he asked. "Or just with someone like me?" he smirked.

     "Just with people like you." she smirked behind her mask. "What _do_ you plan on accomplishing when we get back, Ulfric?" she asked.

     "I could ask the same of you." he replied. Karliah shrugged.

     "What I do doesn't matter. All that matters is returning Mira to Skyrim. The rest...is _my_ business."

     Ulfric looked down at her words, eyeing her carefully. He could think what he wanted of her. She didn't care. Obviously he knew she was a thief, though _how_ he knew she was a Nightingale she hadn't a clue. It didn't really matter at the moment though. But what he asked of her did.

     "Help me, when we return." he suggested. "If I am to be king, I could use someone like you. Perhaps, together, as allies, we can help your people."

     "...You're being serious?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise. Was he? Or was he mocking her? "Or are you just 'playing nice' while we're stuck here in Thedas?" she wrinkled her brow. He chuckled.

     "Take it or leave it, doesn't matter to me." he looked at her. "But yes. I mean what I say."

     She considered his words. This was an unexpected turn in the conversation. In fact, the fact that she was standing there, in the middle of the night, having idle conversation with the Jarl of Windhelm surprised her. Of course, she was in another realm, so why should it be surprising that nothing would be normal?

     "I'll make you a deal, Jarl Ulfric." she said snidely. "If we make it home, visit the Grey Quarter in Windhelm. Step down off your throne and see what's going on in your own city...Then perhaps we'll discuss what happens... _if_ you're elected king." she glared.

     "I'll remember to do that then." he said as he leaned in close. "Lighten up, elf. You're too fetching to be so sour all the time."

     "You're such a dog." she said, and he chuckled. Then, without warning he reached for her hand, bringing it up to his face, kissing the top of it.

     "Goodnight, Karliah." he said, then walked away.

     Karliah could only stand there and gape at him as he strode off, wishing she'd shot him when she had the chance...Well, at least he didn't make a racist remark. That part was comforting, at least...And he... _complimented_ her. That was a bit disturbing. She shook her head. If Gallus could see her now...

     That was an interesting thought... _Could_ Gallus see her now? And _would_ she ever see him again? Shadows preserve her.


	34. Of All Our Fears and Insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (slightly rewritten to fit Mira's unique character, and slightly rewritten for, well, just because.)
> 
> (dialogue with the Divine is canon however.)

     Leliana received a raven with a message. This message contained the report of the activities in the Storm Coast. It informed that a Qunari warrior named Iron Bull, and his company, the Bull's Chargers, would arrive soon, to pledge their services to the Inquisition. The day after that, the Inquisitor herself would return. Reports were positive. Rifts had been cleared of the area, and the bandits had been dispatched of. Inquisition forces garrisoned the region.

     As expected, in due time, Mira returned, though she had little time to rest, for soon she would depart for Crestwood, to meet their Warden contact hiding there. She spent most of her time at Skyhold apologizing profusely to Bull for 'shouting at him'. She said she thought he was a troll, to which he replied, "I may be ugly, but I'm not that ugly." And then he laughed. Five bottles of wine were drained between the two of them, and a group of soldiers they conversed with.

     Then, as expected, she left for Crestwood, accompanied by Hawke, to meet the Warden named Stroud, who had information for them. Said information was no light matter. It seemed the 'demons' from Redcliffe were catching up to them. In the alternate future Mira had witnessed there, supposedly the Elder One commanded an army of demons, and it seemed they discovered as to how he obtained such a thing. According to Stroud, Warden Commander Clarel gathered the Grey Wardens in Orlais, with a plan to enact a ritual that would stop further blights perminantly, but it was how she planned to do it that Stroud protested.

     He stated that all the Wardens simultaneously began hearing the call of the Archdemon, a precursor to the Calling, that bade Wardens to go to their final battle in the Deep Roads, to meet their end. He too heard the calling, but protested Clarel's plan, to use blood magic, to bind the Wardens to demons, creating the demon army they meant to lead to the Deep Roads to kill the Old Gods as they slept. But Stroud suspected that there was treachery afoot, and the Calling heard was enacted by Corypheus, to manipulate the Wardens, who, believing Corypheus was defeated, branded Stroud a traitor and exiled him.

     Mira wasted no time in scouting the Western Approach for the location of the Tevinter ritual tower where the Wardens would gather, finding a Tevinter Magister, one who belonged to the Venatori cult that followed Corypheus. Mira managed to temporarily thwart Magister Erimond at the ritual tower, but the Wardens would yet gather at Adamant Fortress and enact the ritual, and needed to be stopped.

     ...The battle was hard fought. While the Inquisition was prepared well enough for an attack at Skyhold, they were slightly ill prepared to take the fortress. If not for allies in Orlais lending tribuches for Inquisition use, and without a heavily fortified battering ram to take the main gate, they never would've broken the walls. And some of the Wardens had managed to already bind themselves to demons, the power now in their possession, that cut through Mira's forces like a razor.

     Mira herself skirted the forward fight, accompanied by her black cloaked friends, Karliah and Brynjolf, as well as the Seeker, and Hawke, to take the battlements, and give their forces some advantage. Not all of the Wardens on the battlements were bound to demons yet. And some of them did not want to partake in the madness. Mira helped them fight off the demons, and convinced them the Inquisition would do them no harm if they fell back in retreat. She managed to locate Commander Clarel, who still intended to enact the binding ritual, and was trying to pull something through from the other side, from the Fade itself, until Mira revealed to her Erimond's plan. If the Wardens were to complete the ritual, they would inadvertently bind themselves to Corypheus, and he would possess the demon army the Inquisition feared of happening.

     She spared Wardens before, she told them, and knew that not all of them were bent on the ritual, that perhaps some of them would see reason. It was not certain if Clarel believed Mira's words or not, but it was just enough for Clarel to question Erimond's motives, to which he revealed by calling upon his recently acquired gift from Corypheus.

     And in flew the corrupt Archdemon, roaring up above...

* * *

     Mira's heart raced in her chest as she tore after Clarel, who pursued Erimond. Above them, encircling the ramparts was a dragon, reigning fire down upon them. Mira and the others dodged it well enough, but barely missed it a few times, less concerned with the dragon, and more concerned with the Warden and the Magister, who was cornered at a bridge stretching from one battlement to another, that was utterly destroyed at the other end.

     Clarel had seen reason. She had seen the truth behind Erimond's actions and ordered her Wardens to help the Inquisitor while she tore off after Erimond, who fled for his life, like a coward. Mira had to stave off a pride demon to clear a path to the ramparts they escaped through, and it was chaos ahead.

     But Clarel had Erimond cornered, with nowhere to turn. The path ahead was blocked.

     "You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!" she lashed out at him, as she struck him down with the magic of her staff.

     "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch!" he snarled as she loomed over him. "All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes, and you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!"

     Clarel growled in anger and struck him again, sliding him ten feet or so, knocking the wind out of him with the force of the magic.

     "You could have served a new god!" he spat as he lay curled up in pain.

     "I will _never_ serve the Blight!" said Clarel.

     Before she could strike him again, Mira watched as the dragon swooped in and snatched up Clarel, then landed on a spire to spit her back out. She tumbled on the hard stone, ripped to shreds. But still alive. Mira had to stop the dragon. She inhaled, keeping in mind everything she knew about dragons, and the dragons here in Thedas. Damned dragon. Archdemon or not, she didn't care.

     "Joor...Zah...Frul!" she shouted at the beast. Dragonrend, that shrouded it in an eerie blue glow, causing it to stumble. A force of power not created by dragons, but by mortals. Albeit temporarily, it rendered a dragon mortal, weakened them, the power in which she defeated the immortal World Eater, Alduin.

     With her last breath, from where she lay, Clarel aimed and fired her staff at the dragon, with a force that knocked it off its feet, and caused it to tumble over the ramparts. It screamed, snarled and roared as it did so, and Mira and the others leapt out of the way of where it landed before it fell over. The bridge would fall apart. Stroud, who had been with them in pursuit of Clarel, almost fell off. Mira grabbed him up by the arm as they darted for the tower, but it was no use. They would all fall to the chasm below.

     ...There was a flash of light from Mira's hand. The Anchor. It sparked, its magic enveloping her hand. As if with a mind of its own, it opened a rift in front of her and she went through it. She fell still, until...she didn't. The world turned it seemed, up over its own head, and there, wherever she was, up was down, and down was up. Wherever she was, she was no longer at Adamant Fortress.

     She stood up weakly and brushed herself off, looking around. Hawke and Stroud landed the closest to her, and upon realizing the upside down, fell to the ground, and groaned a little. Karliah and Brynjolf fell through the rift as well, and they were followed closely by Cassandra to where Mira stood, looking around.

     Everything was dark, almost black, with fires reddening the sky. There was a chill down Mira's spine. She had never seen this place, but it seemed familiar, as if from a dream she had once...or perhaps a nightmare. The glanced around at the sky, and then to the mountain ridges surrounding them.

     "What is this place?" asked Cassandra.

     "This is the Fade." Hawke replied, marveling at it.

     "Mira?" Cassandra glanced at her. "You walked out of the Fade at the Temple when we found you...Did it look like this?" Mira turned to her, to see a hint of fear in her eyes, and watched as Cassandra noticed the fear in Mira's.

     Dragons landed everywhere, and they were perched on the ridges, glaring at her with gleaming red eyes. Wisps of smoke and cloud, colored red, as if corrupted by red Lyrium. She could hear their voices, whispering in the dark, slowly fading, becoming one with the shadows. They had become demons themselves. No longer the majestic and mystical creatures they had been for millennia, but hallow souls, empty faces...One of them landed nearby, only a few meters from where she and the others stood, making her jump back. Eyes as blue as hers, slowly bleeding into red.

     "What are you seeing?" she heard Karliah ask.

     "It is the Nightmare." said a voice behind them. They turned around.

     It was a woman, in somewhat familiar Chantry Cleric robes. She stepped out from behind the dragon, which did not notice her, nor did she notice it. As if neither were really there, and it was a mirage of Mira's.

     "Divine Justinia! Most Holy!" said Cassandra in surprise.

     "You know this woman?" asked Karliah.

     "I..." Cassandra trailed off. "Can it be?..."

     Mira studied her closely. She couldn't remember her. It certainly looked like the woman she had seen in the vision she experienced at the Temple. But was it her? Or a spirit, or demon? Could she really be alive after all?

     "You were the right hand of the Divine, shield maiden." said Mira. "Is it her?"

     "I don't know." she replied. "It is said that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, and sometimes linger, but...We _know_ the spirits lie. Be _wary_ , Mira."

     "I fear that the Divine is indeed dead." remarked Stroud. "It is likely we face a spirit...or a demon."

     "You think my survival impossible...yet, here you stand, alive, in the Fade yourselves." said the woman, her voice calm, almost serene. "In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have."

     " _Really_?" smarted Hawke. "How hard is it to answer _one_ question? Are you human? Or..." Mira glanced at him. The spirit was right. There was no time. Dragons, demons, whatever they were, waited nearby, eyeing them hungrily.

     "I am here to help you." was all she said. She turned to Mira. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor." she stated.

     Mira eyed her carefully. "No. I do not. Were you the one who took my memory from me?"

     "No. You lost it to the demon that serves Corypheus." she replied. "It is the nightmare you forget upon waking...It feeds off memories of fear, and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes?...Its work."

     "I would gladly avenge the insult this...Nightmare dealt upon my brethren." affirmed Stroud.

     "You will have your chance, brave Warden." the spirit told him. "This place of darkness...is its lair."

     "And Corypheus commands this...Nightmare demon?" Mira asked.

     "The Nightmare serves him willingly." she replied. "For Corypheus had brought much terror to this world. He was one of the Magisters who unleashed the First Blight upon the world. Every child's cry as the archdemon circles...Every dwarf's whimper in the Deep Roads...The Nightmare has fed well."

     "And this demon...Erimond was trying to bring through from the Fade, yes?" asked Mira. The spirit nodded.

     "When you entered the Fade in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, the demon took a part of you." she said to Mira. "Before you do anything else, you must recover it." she turned to the dragons before them, looming over Mira. "These are your memories, Inquisitor."

     Talos help her. She knew what the spirit was implying. She must slay the dragons to return her memories to her. These dragons were demons, that served the Nightmare, disguised as Mira's greatest fears...It was not dragons themselves that she ever feared but...A world without the Dragonborn. A world in darkness, a world corrupted. Even the dragons themselves, corrupted by evil itself.

     Something moved behind them. "Stand ready!" she barked at the others, drawing her sword once more.

     "Spiders! Maker help me, I hate spiders!" she heard Hawke say behind her.

     "You're seeing spiders?" Karliah exclaimed. "I'm not seeing spiders. I bloody _wish_ they were spiders!"

     "What in the hell is all this, lass?!" she heard Brynjolf shout, as the demons closed in and attacked. She still faced the blue eyed dragon, whose eyes had turned red, corrupted by the darkness, and everything went black. She exhaled.

     "This is the Nightmare's doing!" she shouted, as she surged forward, lunging with her sword to strike the dragon. It dodged her attack. "We see our inner fear come to life! Do _not_ let it waver you!" she slashed again. The dragon snapped, and she barely missed it.

     "You say that like it's so easy!" Cassandra snapped. "You, who fears nothing!"

     Mira snarled at Cassandra's words, and slashed at the dragon's large snout, and it whipped its head to the side, giving her a moment, free of its sharp teeth, to jump over its head and onto its neck. Then she wrestled with it, holding on for dear life as she stabbed the back of its head.

     The demon was no more, and dissipated into nothingness, and Mira thumped to the ground. Behind her, another waited, snatching her up by the back of her collar, and flinging her sideways. She doubted her Shouts would work on them, they weren't real. But she could try at least. Whether physically real or not, they certainly flung her around like a doll, regardless. She turned to face the demon, planting her feet.

     "Gaan Lah Haas!" she shouted at it, touching upon it and the others nearby, draining their vitality, whether real or imagined. It helped, a little. Making them weaker, allowing the others to run them through with swords, or cast magic upon them, dispelling them.

     And soon the demons in front of them were no more.

     In that instant, light flashed all around, and for a moment, Mira was no longer in the Fade. She was in a room, with stone walls, and a wooden door ahead of her. The...Temple? Was this her memory? She could hear strange sounds from the other side of the door. Voices, and a woman cried out. Mira felt herself move forward and burst through the door, to see the Divine, suspended in the air, just as she was in the vision at the Temple. And...Corypheus. Though at the time of the memory she did not know who he was, or what he was, only that he was monstrous in form.

     "What's going on here?" she heard herself boom at the creature. The Divine turned to her, fear written on her face, trapped in the air by some sort of spell, and eerie green magic stemmed from the orb in the Elder One's deformed hand.

     "Run!" said the Divine weakly. "While you can! Warn them!"

     "We have an intruder! Kill her!" the Elder One pointed, and his minions followed suit. In the distraction, the Divine knocked the orb from Corypheus' clutches, and it rolled to the floor nearby. For whatever reason, Mira reached out to grab it, before the Elder One could claim it and then...The explosion. That was how she received the mark. The orb she touched transferred the Anchor to her.

     Then...she was in the Fade, surrounded by a shroud of darkness, and she could feel the Divine grab her hand. She wrenched herself to her feet and followed her. They had to get out. Wherever they were, there were things crawling toward them, creatures that were coming after them. They raced up a hill, but still the creatures...the demons...pursued. One of them snatched up Divine Justinia, who was being pulled backward, but Mira still had hold of her hand. She looked into the Divine's eyes, trying to pull her back.

     "Go." she said, then she let go of Mira's hand, and was pulled away...

     Mira blinked. The images were gone, and standing before her were Cassandra, Karliah, Brynjolf, Hawke, and Stroud. Staring at her as she was in a trance, reliving her lost memory. Cassandra stepped forward.

     "What happened? What did you see?" she asked. Mira felt herself shaking a little. She tried to still herself.

     "Your Divine...she..." Mira breathed in slowly through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth to calm herself. Divine Justinia, a woman she did not know, nor did she know Mira...sacrificed herself so that Mira could escape the Fade she had entered through the Anchor. And if Mira had not appeared in that moment in time, there, at the temple, she would not have interrupted the Elder One's ritual, and the Divine would have received a fate possibly worse than death. She would have become the vessel in which Corypheus would have torn open the Veil entirely, unleashing the Fade upon the world.

     Mira reached up and put a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "She sacrificed herself so that I could live...So that I could put your world back in order." Mira affirmed. "That's what I intend to do. Now let's find a way out of here and back to Adamant, shield maiden."

     Cassandra nodded, though still fearful, and confused, with little time to mourn the death of the Divine, whom she had always hoped had yet lived. Then she followed Mira and the others as they tore through the Nightmare's lair, seeking a way out, led by the spirit, aiming to guide them to the exit, up on a ridge, where the rift was still open above them.

     But specter of the Nightmare blocked their way. A formidable creature, one they could only defeat when the spirit used its power to weaken it, and with that, the spirit was no more, whether the spirit really was Justinia herself, no one would know, but its sacrifice would not be in vain. Mira cut through the Nightmare's specter with all the strength she possessed, and with the others, she managed to dispel it.

     This action angered the Nightmare, it did not want them to escape its clutches, though with the specter gone, it dispelled the illusion that had possessed them in such a way. The darkness lifted, the dragons were gone, and in their place the raw form of the Nightmare's lair, though Mira wondered if even this was the true and raw appearance of the Fade. But the Nightmare itself approached, slowly closing in on them, and they would need a distraction if they were to escape it through the rift.

     "Someone must stay behind." said Hawke, in a fearful, but even tone. "If the others are to have any chance of escaping it."

     "Then go, and I will stay behind." said Mira.

     "Mira..." Brynjolf started to say.

     "No. You cannot." stated Stroud. "You must get to the other side, use that mark on your hand, and close the rift from the other side. You _cannot_ allow anything more to escape from the Fade, Inquisitor." Mira hesitated, but then nodded.

     "So, who will stay then?" she asked.

     "I will." said Hawke. "My magic can stave off the demon long enough for you to escape."

     "No, I cannot allow that." Stroud shook his head. "I will stay."

     "With Clarel gone, you are next in command!" said Hawke. "You must go on to lead the Wardens back to their true purpose!"

     "It was the Wardens who committed this mistake!" said Stroud angrily, as he got in Hawke's face. "And a Warden must pay for it. I will _not_ allow what Clarel did go unrectified, Hawke! I will stay."

     "Stroud." Mira put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you _sure_ you want to do this?" she asked him. He nodded.

     "Now _go_!" he spat, as the demon approached them. "I will give you all the time I can!"

     "We will share a drink in the afterlife one day, Warden." Mira nodded.

     "Just go! Don't make it today!" Stroud said to her.

     Without another word spoken, Mira and the others tore up the bank, climbing over the rocks to reach the rift. In the distance she could hear Stroud, speaking the words. She had never heard them before, but she did not need to hear them to know what they were. The Oath of the Grey Warden.

     "In war, victory, in peace, vigilance, and in death...sacrifice." she heard him say before they escaped through the rift, and out of the Fade. Talos be with him, and all the Divines preserve him, Mira thought to herself, and the rift cracked in front of them, leading them out...

     ...But not to Adamant.


	35. And So the Winds Have Changed Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen receives needed advice from Blackwall, Aela gets...beastly, and Mira has found herself at the last place she ever expected...home.

     Inquisition forces searched the rubble. Nothing to be found. The archdemon was gone, elsewhere, they knew not where, and all they could find in the wreckage was what remained of Clarel's body. The Wardens surrendered, and the rifts were gone as well, but the Inquisitor was nowhere to be found, and neither were those who followed her up the tower, chasing after Clarel. Erimond, however, was apprehended, and now sat slumped in chains, guarded by soldiers, while the Commander pondered what to do.

     Cullen sighed. In that moment, he wished Serana was there. She always knew exactly what to say, but he had practically begged her to stay behind at Skyhold, where he knew she would be safe. He rubbed his chin. Surely Mira wasn't dead, otherwise they would've recovered her body. But she was gone, and while the Inquisition occupied Adamant, Cullen was now in charge. And soldiers were now looking to him to make the decision of what to do with the disarmed Grey Wardens.

     Blackwall stepped up beside him, as he leaned out over the battlement, searching the sky for the answer, it seemed.

     "We have two choices." Cullen said to him. "Unite with the Wardens and return to Skyhold with them, or disband them, permanently, and send them north."

     "And the decision is now yours." stated Blackwall. "Shitty deal, isn't it?"

     Cullen nodded. He had to admit, it shouldn't be him making the decision. It should be Mira. Regardless, the Inquisition currently had the authority to make the choice.

     "Your Order is still susceptible to corruption by the Elder One, Blackwall. I fear we cannot take the risk." Cullen admitted.

     "That may be so, but Wardens are also charged with combating darkspawn, Commander. Which is what the Inquisition needs. Can you afford to send us back to Weisshaupt?"

     "Good point." Cullen remarked. "Mira should be here."

     "But she's not. Wherever she is, we still have this to deal with, soldier." Cullen looked up.

     He was eye to eye with Blackwall, who hid a scour beneath his thick beard. Cullen could tell. He was older, and though Cullen had seen his fair share of war as a Templar, no doubt Blackwall had seen a little more. Had seen a great deal of things, probably, judging by the tired look in his eyes. And he was a strong man, who had resisted the Calling, like Stroud, because his service to the Inquisition meant more to him. He had proved his loyalty, thus far, and Cullen felt that without a doubt he could trust him, even if he couldn't trust the other Wardens.

     "If it were _your_ decision, Blackwall, what would you have me do?" Cullen asked him, and Blackwall let out a sigh.

     "Spare them, Commander." he said. "Conscript them, if you have to, for service to the Inquisition. Watch them... _closely_. But don't send them packing. If you disband the Order of the Grey Wardens, it's the same as taking their lives. They have nothing else. They have no family, they have no friends, they gave up whoever they were when they took the oath. They were misled by the Magister...by Corypheus. Willing to do terrible things for the sake of ending the Blight. Perhaps they'd be just as willing to serve the Inquisition instead, and help us kill that bloody darkspawn bastard." Blackwall folded his arms.

     "And if the Calling is heard, like before? Then what?" Cullen raised a brow.

     "Send them to the Deep Roads. Where they bloody belong, soldier. We'll stop Corypheus before he ever gets to them." he said, then he walked away.

     "Take the Huntress to scout the region for Mira and the others." he called after the Warden.

     "Aye, I'll do that." he heard Blackwall mutter.

     Cullen turned back to the task at hand. Blackwall had a point. A good one. And before him were surviving Wardens that turned against Erimond's command and helped the Inquisition beat back the demons. These were soldiers that had been turned from their purpose, but had listened to reason, and that was something to think about. He could do nothing to stop his fellow Templars from turning to the Elder One, but perhaps he could do something about the Wardens. Cullen gave the order to release the Wardens, and offered an alliance with them, which they accepted, then prepared to move out. But all that was on his mind was a certain dark haired human that was once something she called a vampire.

     Corrupted Wardens, demons, darkspawn, and who knew what they would face if they located the Elder One. Erimond would give them nothing. The sooner Serana could return to her homeland, the safer she would be.

     He could admit silently to himself at least that he had fallen for her.

     And the best way he could prove it so, was by getting her as far away from the blight upon Thedas as he could. The difficult part? Convincing her to leave if she got the chance.

* * *

     Blackwall trudged through the rubble surrounding the fortress, with Aela close at his heel. Musing upon everything he told Cullen. What he said was the truth, but there was so much more to it than what he told the lad. Cullen was a good man, a better man, and would no doubt make decisions Mira would approve. But would Blackwall do so?

     He stopped to take a rest from searching, and sat down on a rock, to which Aela joined him, as the sun was rising, turning the sky to a mixture of shades. Inquisition forces were drawing back, moving out, to return to Skyhold until the next move could be made against Corypheus and his allies. But Blackwall intended on staying until the Inquisitor was found.

     "Where do you think she could've gone?" Blackwall asked Aela, as he looked up at the changing sky.

     "I do not know. But she would not leave unless it were important, or someone was holding her captive, which isn't easy to do, you know. She would not abandon your Inquisition." Aela sighed. "But I feel something shifting in the moons."

     "Something bothers you?" Blackwall asked. Aela nodded. "Same here." he said. "It's not like your Harbinger to go off like this without a trace...unless...Hold a moment."

     Blackwall stood up.

     "Do you think she might've found a way back to your homeland?" he asked Aela.

     She shook her head. "Again, I don't know. But perhaps."

     "Soldiers that spotted her up on the battlements talked of a green light appearing when she and the others fell. She could've opened a rift, like before, and went through it maybe and...Shit." he turned to Aela. "If she's not in your homeland she's...trapped in the Fade." he said in alarming tone. "We have to get back and tell the others."

     Aela stood up, stricken with worry. "The Fade? You mean the demon realm?" she asked. Blackwall walked over to her, cupping her shoulders with his hands. She started shaking.

     "She'll be alright, Aela. We'll find her." he soothed.

     "No...Blackwall, let go of me. You have to get back." she said, her voice broken, almost strained. He stepped back.

     "What's wrong?" he asked, and she bolted. Started to take off running, but he caught her by the arm.

     "Please, you don't understand. You _have_ to get away from me!" she snapped.

     "What's going on with you?" he asked, baffled by her behavior. She violently pushed him away, and he landed on his back.

     It didn't take long for him to find out what was wrong. And something was definitely wrong...

     ...She cried out a little, as if she were in pain. He could hear cracking sounds, and she twisted and turned, as she writhed in agony. She turned black and...changed. Black fur sprouted, and slowly she became something that was not human at all, but...beastly.

     "Shit." he muttered, as the beast that was once Aela let out a howl, and then glared at him, hearing his voice. Snarling at him, bearing fangs. Gleaming yellow eyes, and long fingers with sharp claws. Ever so slowly he tried to stand up, one hand up in front of him, the other clasping the hilt of his sword tightly.

     "Easy now..." he murmured to the beast. Maker's balls...Aela was a monster. And she sniffed the air around him, growling again when he ever so slightly moved.

     "Easy. Aela, it's me. Blackwall. I'm not your enemy." Shit, what had he gotten himself into? Aela was a bloody _werewolf_! "So this is what you've been hiding, eh? And I thought I had dangerous secrets. You're one up on me, love." he smirked.

     The wolf sniffed at him again, eyeing him carefully, as if it weren't sure what to do with him. He doubted Aela was in control of this beast, for it looked like it wanted to eat him. This wasn't _quite_ what he had in mind when the thought of 'unleashing beastly urges with Aela'. Maker help him.

     He couldn't run. No doubt the beast would chase him. Quick sudden movement brought out an animal's instinctual urge to chase after their prey, and by the looks of it, the beast would outrun him. But he didn't intend on slaying it either. Inside of it was a woman, lost in the dark, and probably frightened...maybe. It seemed she was well aware of her beast form, and had been trying to hide it from the others. He wondered if even her own comrades from Skyrim knew she was a wolf. But at least it made sense now as to why she was such a good tracker. And then he chuckled.

     She was a big dog. Maybe he should treat her as such.

     "Easy girl." he stretched out his hand, palm under, for her to sniff it, which she did. He had to keep from laughing as she sniffed like a big hound, and then...actually let him touch her. He pet her forehead, then scratched behind her ears. "Good girl." he said.

     Then the beast drew away a little, glancing at him for a moment, then turned to scamper off on all fours, quicker than anything he'd ever seen. Well, shit. He'd have to track her down. Whenever this form wore off, she'd be naked and alone, in a place she barely knew, and completely defenseless.

     This had to be the most interesting game of fetch he'd ever played.

* * *

     While Warden Blackwall and Aela the Huntress scouted the Western approach for Mira Ironhide and those that were with her in the battle, which didn't go as planned, and while Cullen Rutherford and the surviving troops, along with surviving Wardens, made their journey back to Skyhold...

     ...Mira had found her way home.

     But not in a pleasant way. It was no sweet, beloved homecoming she faced. But shredded armor, a gash on her temple, and searing pain as the Anchor snaked up her arm, poisoning her with its unnatural magic. When she and the others went back through the rift, it did not lead them back to Adamant, but somewhere else entirely. Somewhere _very_ far away.

     It led them to Skyrim.

     And through such use of magic, as Solas had warned, the Anchor's effects on her multiplied by tenfold. It was killing her that much faster than before, and she could barely walk. Brynjolf ended up having to carry her, and eventually she blacked out entirely.

     But they had landed somewhere near Riften. She could tell by the smell in the air, the stars in the sky, the position of the moons, and the dry leaves on the ground. She was home. Sort of. It hadn't really been much of a home as of late, and so far away, for so long. But she knew it to be true, knew she was back in Skyrim. She could feel herself being flooded with Magika once more. As well as in opposite, Hawke could not use magic. The Anchor was their only connection to the Fade where they landed, and his powers were lost to him. His staff completely useless.

     Karliah and Brynjolf lead the way as they brought her to Honeyside, where they could rest for a bit, to try and figure out how to stop the mark from spreading on Mira's arm. Before, it had been an Apostate with extensive knowledge of the Fade. Solas was not able to remove the magic, but he was able to stabilize it somehow. That technique was lost to Hawke, along with magic. Who knew if Thedosians could manipulate Magika either. He certainly couldn't. And neither could Cassandra.

     Cassandra was frightened, immensely so.

     Mira had awoken to Cassandra sitting in a wooden chair, next to the rough, but familiar bed in Honeyside. Her own bed. For once. Cassandra slumped over, head in her hands, as though worried. Mira could barely move, weak, and in pain, but she managed to turn her head towards Cassandra, just as she lifted up her raven head to look at Mira.

     "You're awake." she said. "I'm glad of that."

     "No need to worry about me, shield maiden." Mira smiled a little, hearing the weakness in her voice. "I'm not dead yet."

     "I have every reason to worry, Mira." Cassandra stated firmly as she got up to sit next to her on the bed. "We...went through the Fade, saw the spirit, I suppose, of Divine Justinia, fought a Nightmare...and now we're here, in this land...and it's _real_..." her voice cracked. "And you're dying. The mark has spread too far through your body."

     Mira tried to place a hand on Cassandra's arm, it ended up in her lap.

     "It will be alright, Cassandra...Where are the others?" Mira asked.

     "Downstairs." Cassandra replied. "Brynjolf said something about a potions table down there, that maybe he could find something that will help." Cassandra sighed. "And here I am, unable to help, to change anything and...I'm questioning everything I ever believed."

     Mira watched as the Seeker discreetly wiped a tear from her face, covering it up as if something was in her eye. And Mira thought _she_ was the one to always hide her true feelings. But it seemed the effects of the Nightmare still lingered, and whatever Cassandra feared was still weighing heavily on her heart.

     "It was not Andraste who led you out of the Fade, was it? It was just some spirit, trapped there." she sniffed. "And Divine Justinia is truly dead. You weren't sent by the Maker were you?...If there even _is_  a Maker." Cassandra hung her head.

     "Do not question what you believe, shield maiden." Mira said to her. "You want to know what I believe?" Cassandra looked up. "...I believe...that your Maker _did_ send me, Cassandra. I believe that your god, and my gods, are all friends. And so when my gods learned that yours needed my help, they whisked me away to your land, to be at the right place, at the right time, to stop a very bad thing from happening to your world. But they knew that I couldn't do it alone. So they sent you." Mira smiled, and rubbed Cassandra's arm in consolation. "Never question the gods, shield maiden. They know much more than mortals do."

     Cassandra chuckled, as she sniffed the tears back once more.

     "Sometimes I doubt that you are mortal, Dragonborn. Sometimes I wonder if you are more than just a tall woman with strange powers." that made Mira chuckle a little. "And if the horns are really 'just on your helmet'." she smirked.

     "Ah, so you think what Solas believes is true?" Mira snorted a little. "Come now shield maiden."

     "Well, you said you were an orphan. Maybe your parents were dragons." Cassandra said snidely with a smile. It was so good to see that. She never saw Cassandra smile. It suited her well. But she stopped smiling, and changed the subject.

     "You said in the Fade we were seeing our inner fears in front of us. What did you see in the Fade, Mira?" Cassandra's question was grave, and personal. And...hard to explain. "Or did you see nothing? Because you truly fear nothing?"

     Mira sighed. "I _do_ fear." The Seeker leaned her head to the side, "But what I fear is...not easy to speak of." Mira told her. Cassandra sighed.

     "I am sorry. And sorry for what I said in the Fade. Our fears come in all shapes and forms. Hawke said he saw spiders. I...saw other things. Whether memories or...scars," Cassandra glanced at the one below Mira's eye, "Fear causes pain. And pain causes us to do...horrible things. Become horrible people. But not you. Whatever caused you pain, made you into a hero, Mira. Which makes me feel like you have no fear at all."

     "Being fearless can make you into a monster as well, shield maiden." Mira looked away, and stared at the candle burning in the sconce, hanging on the wall. "I was without fear...once, a long time ago. And because I had no fear, I lived without a care to consequences. I...wasn't a hero. Far from it, in fact. But...then I was made to see what I am, and what I was destined to become. It was written on a wall, far from where we're sitting now, buried in a temple. But it was there, and I saw it, and I was no longer an urchin from Riften. I was much more."

     "So what _are_ you afraid of?" Cassandra asked. Mira snorted again.

     "I'm an orphan, Cassandra. What do you think I was afraid of?" she turned her head to face the Seeker. "I was afraid of being nothing. Of being no one. Of having no one."

     "You were afraid of being alone?"

     "I _was_ alone. I was eight, I think, when I left Riften. Ran away from Honor Hall, the orphanage not a hundred yards from where we sit now. Right here in this city. I ran from the woman who cut my face. Hid in a trading caravan, headed south. Found by the people that pulled the wagon. Caught me stealing an apple. They took me in. They were...the closest thing I had to family. They took away my fear. And that...was what turned me into..." she sighed.

     But before she got the chance to tell Cassandra the truth, the horrible things she had done, the lights extinguished. Everything went dark, as black as night. There were sounds of a scuffle, something hitting the floor. Mira couldn't move, couldn't get away from whoever put a hand over her mouth, making her lose consciousness.

     She never saw their face.


	36. What Storm is Brewing at Home

     Mira opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred, her head swimming...and it hurt. Why it did, she didn't know, but more importantly, she couldn't get up. She wasn't restrained, but she was groggy, and her limbs felt heavy. The last time this sort of situation had happened to her in Skyrim, she woke up to find a member of the Dark Brotherhood looming over her, expecting her to murder someone. Kill for kill. Since she stole their contract. And now, once again, she woke up in a strange place, drugged probably.

     She looked around. It was dim, wherever she was, and damp. She was in a cave, she assumed, and someone lit a fire nearby. She could see the warm light, and hear it crackling. But, interestingly, there was something that _didn't_ crackle. The mark. The Anchor didn't hurt nearly as much as before, but it was still there, of course.

     She tried to sit up.

     "One must not get up too quickly, for she has been through a terrible ordeal."

     The accent, speaking in third person, rolling the 'r' sound in such a way. Khajiit. Though not one she recognized. Certainly not Kha'tri or Khara. They were gone.

     She sat up anyway, and looked him over. Tall, perhaps as tall as her. Black fur, golden rings in his ears, and when he turned to face her, pale eyes, and scratch marks under his eye. She used her peripheral vision to scan her surroundings for a weapon, but found none. And she was without armor as well. Dressed in rags. Then she saw her arm.

     It was as if the mark had poisoned her, turned her blood black, and she could see the dark lines of her veins branching up her arm like vines, all the way up to her shoulder. It was horrifying to see, but at least she still had feeling in her arm, and her hand. Could move each finger with no more pain than back in Thedas after Solas stabilized the mark.

     "So, where has the Dragonborn been hiding, one wonders." she heard the cat say, but she didn't answer.

     "What did you do to me?" she asked him.

     "Khajiit did not do this to you, Dragonborn...But he _did_ stop it from killing you." said the cat, his voice sounding like a purr almost, and he smiled a little. "Though he could not stop the magic from spreading."

     "And...how does one stop it from killing me, she wonders?" she asked him, mocking his peculiar way of speaking.

     "Mmm. Khajiit uses Magicka. Simple healing spells." he answered.

     "My thanks to you then." she said as she glared at him. "Now, who are you, where am I, and why am I here?!" she demanded. "Tell me before I Thu'um!"

     "Hush now." he chided. "Khajiit is not an enemy. Otherwise, Khajiit would let the Dragonborn die...One already has the answer. She must simply remember."

     "At least tell me where I am then." she sighed.

     "Bandits called it Broken Helm." said the cat.

     "Broken Helm?" she looked around. "I've been here. It's not that far from Riften." she stood up and started toward the mouth of the cave. "I have to get back to...Wait." she stopped. "Where are the others?" she darted back toward the Khajiit. "What have you done with them?!" she menaced, ignoring the headache that worsened.

     "Khajiit... _merely_ incapacitated the friends of the Dragonborn. Who are still right where he left them. Unconscious, at Honeyside. But Khajiit is sure they are awake by now. And looking for you." he smirked. "But one must not leave without armor or weapon, no?"

     "You had better be telling the truth, thjiziit!" she spat. "Where is my armor? And my sword? What have you done with it?"

     He stepped closer. "No no no no." he said very quickly. "Khajiit did _not_ teach the Dragonborn to clunk around in iron!" he spat. That made her very curious. He was acting very much like he knew her...but she didn't know why. He turned around to poke inside a chest by the table she had lay on. Then he pulled out something made of leather. And a bow. Very nice one too. She should know. It belonged to her. Well, used to, anyway.  

     He handed her the Guild Master's armor, and the Nightingale bow that she had returned to Karliah. Which he had taken from her home on purpose. He held it out to her, along with a quiver. Full of her stock of rare ebony arrows no less.

     "The Dragonborn wears the armor of the Nords who did _not_ raise her." he scathed. "She was raised by Khajiit, yes? Then she belongs to _Khajiit_! And to the Shadows. Now put it on!" he hissed. His tone of voice did sound familiar. It reminded her of Kha'tri, very much so.

     She grabbed her armor.

     "Why are you convinced that you know me?" she asked, as she pulled the leather up over her legs. "I've never seen you before. How do you know about me?" she glanced up.

     The cat sighed. "Khajiit cannot make one remember. She must remember for herself." he flicked his ears back in irritation.

     "Khajiit had hoped that when the Dragonborn saw him...she would remember." his eyes were sad.

     "I don't." she said haplessly. "And I have to go. I have somewhere I need to be."

     "One must go to Nightingale Hall, yes?" his ears perked up. "Speaking to Nocturnal, yes?"

     "How do you know about that?" she eyed him carefully.

     "One has ways. Khajiit already knows what the Lady of Shadows will say." he smirked a little. "Khajiit has already been told. 'Gather her allies', she says. 'Return her to this land', she says. But the Nightingale has forgotten one, you see. The Dragonborn has another ally. One that she cannot remember."

     He had repeated Karliah's words. The instructions given by Nocturnal. Things that no one could possibly know unless they were a Nightingale, she was sure of. But he wasn't one. So who was he, then?

     "That ally is you?" he nodded. "Who are you then?"

     "Mmm...a friend." he stated. Mira leaned her head in interest.  

     "Then...what do I call you, friend?" she asked him.

     "Another time. Now, we must go." he said, as she was fully dressed, and her bow looped over her shoulder. Sighing, and not knowing what else to do, Mira followed the Khajiit out of the cave, and back to Riften. Wondering the whole way just who he was.

* * *

     "I've searched everywhere in the city, and I mean everywhere." said Brynjolf. "She's not here. There's no trace of her, or whoever took her." he rubbed the back of his head where he was hit with a metal plate. My, it smarted. And Mira was gone. Once again. It infuriated him.

     "Whoever it was, they couldn't have gone far." Karliah assured. "What did you say to the guild?"

     "Delven did most of the talking, lass. Told me how quiet it's been around here. Too quiet. Apparently, things have gotten fishier and fishier since we left. He hasn't seen anyone come in or out of Riften, and hasn't heard anything from his contacts. Whatever the Thalmor have planned, they're laying low. Probably waiting to find out where the Dragonborn's run off to. That's my guess."

     "But the emperor has not arrived yet?" Karliah asked. He shook his head.

     "He wont for another week. Which tells me time doesn't exactly pass relative to Thedas. And we've been gone for how long? Who knows how much time has passed for the others we left behind. Could be days, years, or just the blink of an eye. Can't know for sure."

     "What is outside this city?" Hawke asked him.

     "Mountains, forests...caves mostly." answered Karliah. "Bandit hideouts. Any number of places someone could've taken Mira."

     "And we don't have the time nor resources to search every one of them, do we?"

     Brynjolf shook his head. "No. We'd need an indefinite way of tracking her."

     "You could always search the area for rifts." suggested Cassandra. "I highly doubt she would make one appear, not without reason...Unless she would use it to get back to Thedas."

     "That would _kill_ her." Brynjolf sighed. "I don't exactly want to think about that."

     "Neither do I." Cassandra assured. "But she may not know that, and try to use the mark, or..."

     The back door flung open. Thank the gods, it was Mira. Everyone in the room jumped up to walk over to her. She looked pale, more so than usual, and she was...wearing her guild armor?

     "Mira, what happened?" Brynjolf asked as he hugged her. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, someone coming through the door. He let go of Mira and drew his dagger, pointing it at the cloaked figure. Mira gently reached for his arm.

     "It's alright. He's a friend...I think." she said.

     "You _think_?" Brynjolf glared at the figure. He pulled back his hood to reveal black fur. A Khajiit. And a heavily armed one. Bow slung over his shoulder, crossbow at his hip, dagger laced beside it. Mercenary perhaps? No. No, something was very familiar about the armor he wore...

     "Who are you?" he heard Karliah ask the Khajiit from behind him, as he still brandished his blade. The Khajiit smirked at him. Then he gestured to himself.

     "This one is called M'Shan Khatani." he said. "But you may call him Fox."

     "Fox? A cat named 'fox'? That's only the weirdest thing I've heard all day, and holy hell I'm talking to a _talking cat_..." Hawke stated, and Brynjolf turned to see the mage wiping sweat from his brow, looking a little faint.

     "Khajiit." Fox corrected. "One is not a _talking cat_." he hissed. "This one's kind is called Khajiit."

     "By the Maker." Cassandra approached him, looking him all over. "Mira, you never mentioned such creatures existing here." she marveled at him.

     "Well, you never asked, and you had a hard enough time believing I was from another realm." Mira shrugged, but she was more focused on the Khajiit. She kept staring at him, then scratched her shoulder. Brynjolf knew what that meant. A nervous tick of hers. She did that when she was trying to wrap her head around something. Had the cat said something to her?

     "One is fascinated with Khajiit, yes?" Fox asked Cassandra. She looked up at him.

     "You have a strange way of speaking." she wrinkled her brow. Fox cleared his throat.

     "Would...you prefer...I speak like this?" he asked, almost straining to say the pronoun of 'I'. "It is a difficult thing for Khajiit. We do not speak the human tongue so well. It...flows differently from the tongue than Ta'agra."

     "Mira, who is he?" Brynjolf turned back to her. She glanced over at him.

     "He saved my life. Stopped the Anchor from killing me, somehow." she said.

     "Though...I could not stop it's magic from spreading." Fox relented. "Whatever form of magic it is, no Magika can dispel it. I could only heal the wounds made to flesh. The magic itself is permanent...I believe." he glanced over at Mira, his icy eyes giving her an interesting look. One Brynjolf couldn't name.

     "Is that way you took Mira?" Karliah stepped forward. "To heal her? Did you think we would _stop_ you?"

     "No." he told her. "One simply needed to share words with the Dragonborn. Alone. She and...I...are old friends."

     Everyone turned to Mira. She gaped at them all.

     "He's an ally." she said. But Brynjolf could tell she was lying. Even when she was most fluent at it. Well, she wasn't now. And he wondered why. He was well aware that Mira was raised by Khajiit, but he knew this wasn't Kha'tri, or anyone she knew. Firstly, Kha'tri died years ago, and secondly, the look that was plastered on her face told him she had never met him until then. So he chose to keep his eye on the cat, and be cautious.

     "We need to get back to Thedas." stated Hawke, as he leaned against a dresser nearby, bottle of wine in hand, obviously not taking the sudden strangeness very well. "And I'm not just saying that because there's a two legged, talking...Khajiit in the room. We need to return to Adamant, find out what happened to the Wardens. And I need to..." he cleared his throat. "We need to go." was all he said.

     "Not yet." said Karliah. "First, we need to-"

     "One no longer needs to, Nightingale." interrupted Fox.

     "How...How do you..." Karliah gaped. How did he know she was a Nightingale? Brynjolf wondered the same thing. They both had resumed wearing their Thieves Guild armor once more.

     "This one knows lots of things." he glanced at Cassandra. "Apologies." he smiled. "...I know of lots of things. One of which is who the Nightingales are in the room. And also...who in the room is not from Tamriel." his gaze flitted from Cassandra to Hawke. "But I do wonder...where you are from, precisely." he gleamed.

     "I don't think it matters." Karliah said tersely.

     "Oh yes, it _does_. Because I would like to know about _this_." he scathed. Then he pulled a roll of parchment from his person, and smacked it down onto the table nearby. "I want to know what, precisely, these _things_ are."

     Karliah walked over, snatched up the parchment, and unrolled it.

     "Shadows preserve us. Mira, these are Fade demons." she looked up, fear and shock in her glittering purple eyes. Then she handed Mira the parchment, who grabbed it hurriedly.

     "Fade demons?!" Mira looked up at them. "In Skyrim?!" she showed them the paper.

     "Maker's breath, they _are_!" Cassandra gasped.

     "I was given this by a merchant in the White Gold city, six months ago." said Fox. "And there are others like it. They come, out of the shadows...and so interesting that they come near places where gates of Oblivion once stood, centuries ago. As if they like it there." he hissed a little at the thought, and then he turned to Mira. "Khajiit assumed it was Daedra returned to Tamriel, but one did not know for sure...But others? Others believe it is the work of the Dragonborn."

     "People think I brought demons to Tamriel?!" Mira folded her arms, shaking her head. Then running her fingers through her hair.

     "Shor's bones, what is happening...Maybe I really did do it..." she looked up. "What if when I went to Thedas, something from Thedas took my place here in Mundus? These demons?"

     "You believe your _gods_ brought you to Thedas, the same as I do. Unless they're _evil_ , I doubt your gods would allow such a thing to happen." Cassandra reassured her. Mira exhaled.

     "Yes, well...now I'm not so sure." Mira countered. "It would explain why the rift led us to Skyrim instead of back to Thedas. Because there are rifts right here at home as well. And demons have come through them."

     "If there are rifts here, this place is connected to the Fade, somehow." said Hawke. "So why can't I use magic?"

     "I don't know." Mira replied. "Maybe for the same reason I can't use magic in Thedas?"

     Mira's answer looked like it only confused Hawke further. It confused Brynjolf as well.

     "So, where is this Thedas?" asked Fox, perking up in curiosity. "Is that where these creatures come from?"

     "Yes...and no." Mira admitted, who had started pacing in her discomfort. 

     "They are from the realm we call the Fade." said Cassandra.

     "How do we put them back inside it?" Fox raised a brow.

     "Through this." Mira gestured to her arm, that Brynjolf noticed had gotten a little worse since the say before, but he guessed was no longer killing her, just leaving behind a rather nasty scar.

     "And there is no other way?" Fox asked. Mira shook her head. "Well then, they will have to stay in Cyrodil, I'm afraid." Mira looked up at Fox's statement.

     "No. I have to get to Cyrodil...And...I have to get to Thedas, and find Corypheus." she looked around at the others. "If we got here through the mark, then we can get back with it. No doubt we will have to pass through the Fade, before we reach Thedas, which will be hard to navigate, but..."

     "No." said Fox. "Whatever that thing is, on your arm, it will kill you." he looked around at all of them. "That will render this venture...pointless."

     Brynjolf leaned his head in interest. Though trying to hide it, this Khajiit was showing concern for Mira. It was entirely believable that he knew her, but...did she really know him? Or was there more that neither were letting on to? He might have to keep a _very_ close eye on Fox, won't he?

     Mira looked very tired. And very ill still, probably because of the information she just learned. It was getting harder and harder for her to remain composed, it seemed. Perhaps it was the mark that was making her angry, fearful, and confused, instead of confident. Or it was the Fade. They saw awful things there, and it changed them. And watching Mira dying, for the first time, changed Brynjolf.

     "We need to rest." he said to them. "We'll sort this out in the morning."

     There was a chorus of sighs.

     "This one will go...elsewhere." Fox grinned at his own sense of humor, then excused himself from company and exited through the back door of Honeyside. Brynjolf let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

     "Can he be trusted?" Cassandra asked Mira, who nodded. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

     "Gather her allies." Mira said to Karliah, who sighed. "How long have I been gone?"

     "Only a day, but we have more to this matter that needs discussed." said Brynjolf. "The emperor is expected in Skyrim within a week."

     "A week?" Mira raised a brow. "Time has passed a lot quicker in Skyrim than in Thedas." she stated. "You were in Thedas a matter of weeks, but you've been gone from Skyrim a matter of _months_?" Brynjolf nodded. "And if we return to Thedas..."

     "It could have been the Fade." said Hawke suddenly. "It does not adhere to the confines of mortality. We could have been trapped in the Fade a lot longer than it felt."

     "Which would mean that it has already been several months since we left Thedas...or no time at all could have passed." Cassandra relented. "We can't know for sure."

     "This is a lot different than the time magic that Alexius possessed." stated Mira, to which both Brynjolf and Karliah gaped at her. "Yes, I left that out, didn't I?" she sighed, and glanced at Hawke and Cassandra. "I've been keeping things strictly within the inner circle of the Inquisition, and for good reason. We encountered a Magister, who, much like Erimond, was corrupted by Corypheus. But Alexius messed with time. In fact, he sent myself and Dorian Pavus forward in time by an entire year. And I saw what would happen to Thedas if I did not stop him." she rubbed her temple. "Changing the future is no light matter." she said to them. "Which is why I kept it a secret as best I could. It's more than accepting a destiny this time around. It's...changing destiny, I fear."

     No one knew what to say. Cassandra said nothing, did not deny, nor defend Mira's words, but merely folded her arms and stared at the floor. Hawke chewed on the words for a moment. Brynjolf couldn't tell if he knew already or no, and Brynjolf himself just stood there, trying to wrap his head around everything learned that day. Same with Karliah.

     "You know, I think Brynjolf is right. Resting up sounds like a good idea." the Dunmer said to them. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

     Well, every one of them _hoped_ they would, at least. And it looked like it was going to be a long night, for all of them.

(I couldn't resist drawing Fox shirtless :3 I love Khajiit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ('thjiziit' means fool in Ta'agra, and is taken from the Ta'agra Project, and independent site building a Khajiit language based on canon game and lore. Though it is canonical that Khajiit speak Ta'agra, some of the words and phrases used in this work may be considered non-canon lore, as they were developed by the site, and are subject to change.)
> 
> (I thought it imperative to mention to readers that though Mira is Nordic, as she speaks with an accent similar to Mjoll the Lioness, headcanon it is because she was raised by Khajiit, which sound similar. This shall reflect in notes and summary of story)


	37. The Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall tracks down Aela...and they, of sorts, give in to the beast within...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

     Warden Blackwall had chased the magnificent beast from the Western Approach all the way to the Hissing Wastes. It was an area of Orlais that had yet to be scouted by Inquisition forces, and Blackwall had no way of knowing whether to expect rifts. If there _were_ rifts, he didn't exactly have Mira in his company to dispel them with the Anchor, and more likely he and Aela would be in grave danger if they encountered one.

     There, in the Wastes, it was unforgiving desert, but cold and dark, desolate even. But there was nothing but rocks and sand and Aela's limp body wasn't hard to find. She lay unconscious, having transformed once more to her human self, red hair fanning out in the sand, naked body resting on its side. Once again, her armor ripped to shreds.

     She was a beautiful sight, and Blackwall felt a little guilty staring at her so. He quickly removed his overcoat and spread it across her form, covering her up, like any gentleman would do for a lady. Funny, that she looked nothing like a feral beast, at least not on the outside. She felt the coat drawn over her and stirred. Groaning, looking a little hungover, and Blackwall wondered where exactly her mind went during these transformations.

     He sat down next to her, leaning back against a rock, propping his arms on his knees, unsure of how to explain, but figuring it best to keep silent until she was fully awake and aware of what transpired. After a few minutes of groaning and grumbling, she shot up into a sitting position and looked around, casing her surroundings, eyes finally resting on Blackwall, widening in shock and fear.

     "You ruined your armor again." he said. "That stuff isn't cheap, you know. You'll owe me, come morning." she continued to gape at him. "Relax, I'm only joking." he smirked. 

     "What happened?" she asked, as if she didn't know. Blackwall let out a bit of a sigh as he tried to find words.

     "You changed." was all he said, perhaps still in disbelief of it actually occurring.

     "Changed? By the gods!...Are you well? Did I hurt you?" she looked him over. He shook his head.

     "I'm alright." he chuckled a little. "In fact, I don't think that beast of yours is...well, it's kind of _harmless_ really." he snorted. "Does this happen often?" he asked nonchalantly.

     "Blackwall, I..." Aela swallowed. "I've done terrible things...awful things...You should've ran the _other way_." she said firmly. "Why did you follow me?"

     "Well, I bloody well wasn't going to let you go off on your own to wake up some place not knowing where you were, or how to get back." he stated tersely. "So this is the secret you've been hiding then? Why you...act so strange?"

     Aela looked away from him. "And why you don't want to get close...to anyone?" he asked her. Reluctantly she nodded.

     "Those creatures you told me about, when we were out on the Coast...You were talking about yourself, weren't you?" he asked, and she nodded. It took her a moment to find words, but Blackwall willingly listened when she did.

     "It's different back home." she said. "In Skyrim I can control my transformations...I'm guided by Hircine's influence, but...here I am far away from it and..."

     "Hircine?" Blackwall blurted out, far too curious.

     "The Prince of the Hunt. It is he who put this curse upon mortals...Though I saw it as a gift...It isn't one here." she sighed, glancing down at the coat around her, pulling it tighter around her. "In the times that I transformed, I was consumed by a bloodlust, and couldn't resist the urge to take the life of another. I used it to combat my enemies with ferocity when needed...But here...here I am not in control, and do not know what happens while I sleep and the beast inside is awake. But...here...the beast is calm. I don't understand."

     "My guess, Huntress, is that the wolf inside is not the real beast, but _you_ are." Blackwall looked over at her. He saw her face contort to a frown, angry at his words, probably realizing how right he was. "We all have a darker side, Aela. You're not alone. It's just...not all of us have a wolf inside trying to break free. To get out, explore, sniff out the new land it's found itself in."

     "Like a pup." Aela mused. "A curious pup."

     "You may not be able to control it, but...Maybe here, you don't have to be quite so afraid of it." Blackwall couldn't resist the urge to reach out, put an arm around her, and pull her close. She tensed up at first, for even though he wasn't, _she_ was still afraid, of _herself_...Then she pulled away.

     "I do not know what causes these transformations, but...They happen when I'm near you." she stated. "I cannot get close to you."  
 Blackwall scoffed. "I think that's a load of shit." he chuckled, trying once more to pull her closer. "I think that's just an excuse so you don't have to let anyone love you."

     She sat up to look at him, face to face. "You love me?" she asked, and he pulled her down on top of him, almost straddling him. He put a hand up to her cheek, then used it to brush hair away from her face.

     "Possibly. I know I _could_..." he sighed. 

     "How can you be so...so..."

     "Stupid?" Blackwall chuckled.

     "Unafraid." Aela corrected, feeling the scruff of hair on his cheek with the palm of her hand. He smirked.

     "I may not be a wolf, Huntress, but...Maybe I'm more beast than man. Maybe we're more alike than you think...You weren't scared back home, but you _are here_. Maybe you need to _stop_ being afraid. Don't let fear guide your hand." he pulled her face to his to kiss her, and perhaps what he said sunk in. She stopped being afraid.

     Blackwall pulled her closer, to rest on his lap, his coat slipping off her shoulders to reveal bare skin. He couldn't feel it, he was wearing gloves, so while he distracted with his kiss, he removed them, casting them to the ground beside him, to inch his fingers up her thighs. Her skin was fire to touch, but soft as silk. He wondered if she burned as a side effect of her beast form...But thought better when he felt her shiver as he inched his hand up the small groove in her lower back.

     She pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, as if asking to kiss her deeper, touch her more...A thousand ways he could've imagined this happening, none of which included being out in the middle of a desolate wasteland at dusk, settled in sand and ruin, but...Perhaps it was perfect that way. There were no castles, no courts full of nobles, candles or streams. Only a hunter and his prey. Caught in his snare, in his kiss.

     It was dangerous where they were, and who knew what lurked nearby, but neither cared. For Aela the Huntress desperately needed someone to ravish her right then...Someone unafraid of her...someone who could love her. Possibly did already. Blackwall wasted no time in maneuvering her underneath him, careful not to kick up sand.

     There were so many buttons and straps in the way though, and Blackwall was surprised, and humored by the way Aela used her strength to pull his vest apart, strings snapping, and buttons flying astray. It made him laugh, at first, but the humor left when he looked down at the expression on Aela's face, hooded eyes, flushed cheeks, bitten lip...He couldn't resist kissing her again as he felt her hands explore him. Though she pulled away a little for a moment.

     "What if I change?" she whispered.

     "You won't." he reassured. "...But I might." he said, though he didn't give her an explanation as to what he meant by that. Instead he showed her, placing a hand on her hip, lifting her up to him, her breath faltering in his mouth. She was no inexperienced adolescent, and neither was he, but neither could deny the tension between them, anticipating the moment that would change them both. It would be so easy to throw caution to the wind and be forceful, but...not when it was so much more enjoyable to feel her tremble beneath him as he slowly grazed his hand over her, feeling how aroused she was. Moist at his touch.

     He briefly wondered if she'd ever actually had anyone drive her to such insanity. Or was every man back home just a mindless brute that barreled through love making like a beast in the wild...Not that he wasn't a little beastly himself, but he enjoyed torturing her like he did, like she had tortured him from the inside out. He felt her hand fumble with his trousers, shaking, breathing raggedly, growing impatient...

     He groaned a little, giving in, helping her undo the lacing, then pulling her hand away to hold it above her head for a moment while he slowly guided himself in. She pulled him closer, gripping him tightly with the profound leg muscle she possessed. Arching up into him, gasping in his mouth. By the Maker, she was driving him mad still. Warm and soft, and quite unlike the intimidating warrior he thought she was upon first meeting. Instead, she was something just a bit sweeter, a bit more vulnerable...letting out a whimper at his thrust.

     All of it was worth it. Every bit. The terrible parts, the aggravating parts, the moments when he thought this little venture of his would surely get him killed. Maker's balls, he never wanted any part of the Inquisition honestly, other than to see that what needed done was done...But since it meant having her?...He'd do it all over again, trifold.  
   
   
   
 


	38. The Heart Wants What It Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange secret about Josephine is learned by accident, and Serana and Cullen learn where they stand with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes, the chapter title is also the title of the song by selena Gomez, and yes I love that song. No, the song did not play any part in inspiration for the chapter, but yes, the title is fitting. now...enjoy it.)

     "I just received word from the Western Approach." stated Cullen, when he saw Serana enter the tower at Skyhold. "Mira and the others with her are still missing, and now Blackwall and the Huntress have run off as well." he set down the letter he was holding.

     "What is this?" Serana asked, fairly perturbed, arms crossed, and glaring at him.

     "What is what?" he countered, utterly confused. "I..I don't.."

     "You don't _what_?" she started. "You don't _get it_? You've been back for _days_ now and haven't so much as said a _word_ to me!" she snapped, then darted toward him. "I was _worried_ , Cullen! You trudged off into battle, and took a _fortress_ , for crying out loud! And now you're back and acting like nothing happened!"

     "I...I'm sorry...I didn't realize." he stammered. Something about seeing Serana upset in such a way made him nervous. And feel guilty, because she was right. He rubbed his neck in discomfort. She skirted around the desk between them and moved to stand in front of him.

     "You should've let me come with you." she said.

     "I didn't want to put you in danger." he admitted. "If anything should happen to you, I..." he sighed. "And I've been distracted. I am sorry for that. Commanding an army I can handle, surely, but...Leading the Inquisition was not expected. And trying to keep the situation contained, and..." he sighed again. "I thought it best if we...didn't distract each other further than necessary."

     Serana slumped a little. "Trust me," she began softly, "The last thing I want to do is keep you from something important but...that isn't what I meant." she looked up at him. "I was worried, Cullen." she said to him. "And I don't get scared that easily. But with you?" The looked in her eyes told him she meant it, and perhaps it was his way of apologizing once more, the way he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, cradling her head and wishing he could feel the mahogany toned locks of hair, knowing how soft they were, but gloves were in the way. She squeezed him, as best as she could, considering the armor he wore was in the way as well, and then looked up at him. Tilting her gaze to meet his.

     "I can handle myself, Commander." she smiled, just a little, then let out a sigh. "It's you I worry for. You're a good soldier, it's not that, but...You don't see it, but I do, they way you bury yourself in the task in front of you, without giving yourself _any_ room at all to breathe...And I..." she stopped.

     Whatever it was that she was about to say, he wouldn't hear it, at least not at that time, for there was a knock on the door. He let go of Serana.

     "Enter." he said, to whoever it was on the other side. The door creaked open, and a curly haired figure, dressed in blue and gold, appeared inside the room. Lady Josephine.

     "I am sorry to disturb you, Commander, Miss Serana," she nodded to both of them, "But there is a favor I must ask." she said, almost shy about it, as if it were the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.

     "Is everything alright?" Serana asked her, eyeing her like a concerned sibling. Josephine shrugged.

     "Not really, given that our Herald is missing, along with the Seeker, the Champion of Kirkwall, and the highest ranking Warden upon Clarel's death. And two of your own companions." Josephine stared at the floor, completely disturbed by the events taking place as of late. People all throughout the keep were beginning to ask questions, and this flustered Josephine more than anyone. There had already been some bickering amongst the Inquisition's inner circle of followers, and the Antivan's diplomatic attitude was failing miserably at smoothing things over.

     "But, that's not why I'm here. I...arranged for the Inquisitor to meet with the Comte Boisvert in Val Royeux, and...given that _you_ are now in charge, Commander," she glanced Cullen's direction, though not quite wanting to make eye contact, "I was hoping that you would be able to meet with him."

     "Well, first I need to know why Mira planned to meet him, Josephine." Cullen remarked. "Why did he request the Inquisitor in person?" he wrinkled a brow. Josephine sighed.

     "It was a personal favor to _me_." she admitted. "Couriers of mine were dispatching papers to Val Royeux and they were killed. The Comte said he had information on the matter, possibly knows who is responsible but...he would only speak to me if I agreed to bring the leader of the Inquisition." Josephine looked terribly distraught over having to admit such a thing. Cullen couldn't help but pity her. She rarely ever asked personal favors, and seemed to always take great care in others above herself.

     "Did he make threats of any kind if you didn't hold up to your end of the deal?" Serana asked her. Josephine shook her head.

     "No, but...he prides himself in seeming very well connected. Wants to be seen speaking to the Inquisitor to grant him favor with the Orlesian court, I am sure of it. No doubt if the Inquisitor did not meet with him, he would sour our reputation out of insult."

     Cullen briefly wondered if Serana understood all that, for Josephine was speaking rather quickly. But she seemed to understand well enough. She picked up on Thedosian custom fairly quickly. Read a lot.

     "With the way things have been going on around here, I don't think your Inquisition needs any more red marks in its reputation ledger." Serana scoffed, then she turned to Cullen. "Couldn't hurt. If Mira thought it was a good idea, maybe it is. She has a knack for that sort of thing." Cullen nodded in agreement.

     "Perhaps." mused Josephine. "Though..." she chuckled. "She suggested I take _Sera_ with us. She's familiar with Val Royeux, and could provide eyes for us, should something go wrong, but I didn't think she would be... _professional_ enough...though she _is_ smart...and funny...and..." Josephine trailed off.

     "I knew it." said Serana, smirking.

     "Knew what?" the Antivan asked, completely clueless. Cullen carried his gaze back and forth between the two of them, rather clueless himself.

     "You have a crush on her, don't you?" Serana asked her. Josephine huffed.

     "Well, I never!" she put her hands on her hips. Well, that was certainly most awkward for Cullen, who could only put a hand over his mouth and raise a brow. 

     "Oh don't give me that." Serana laughed. "I recognize that dreamy look anywhere. Why are you so embarrassed about it?"

     All Josephine could do was stand there and blush. Tremendously. The woman who had words for every situation was, in fact, speechless. And of all things for Cullen to stumble upon. The diplomat shared feelings for a...well...a woman. Embarrassing indeed.

     "She's a... _woman!..._ This is... _hardly_ appropriate." Josephine muttered.

     "Look," Serana leaned back against the desk. "I don't know how you people do things here in Thedas but...back home? We sort of live by a code. Life is short. So enjoy it while you can." she looked over at Cullen. "With _whoever_ makes you happiest." she turned back to Josephine. Stood up and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Otherwise, what the hell is the point of any of it?"

     "Skyrim must not hold much importance to producing a _family_ , which _isn't_ possible with such... _sordid_ behavior." Josephine lashed out, then she turn to leave. "I've arranged for us to leave in the morning, Commander." she said as she opened the door, but Serana's words stopped her for a moment.

     "An orphan doesn't care who their parents are. Whether it's a mother and father or otherwise. They care about having someone who cares for them, loves them. Family isn't always blood you know. If having children is what makes the difference, there's always adoption." Serana folded her arms.

     "That is _not_ the point-"

     "Mira was an orphan." Josephine's face turned white. "The people who raised her weren't even _human_. If she were here right now? I bet she'd say the same things."

     "How do you know?" the Antivan asked. 

     "Because she _did_ say that." at Serana's words, it seemed Josephine felt sudden shame in getting angry and politely excused herself. Cullen couldn't believe the turn the conversation took. He didn't expect it at all. So, pushing aside Josephine's personal affairs, he turned to Serana, and watched her sigh. Ironic, that she could be so profound with words. He was tempted to let her lead the Inquisition for him.

     "When you said 'whoever makes you happiest'...was that advice really meant for her? Or someone else?" he asked as she approached, and his question made her smile a little, and start to chuckle.

     "How many different ways do I have to show you...I care?" she asked in turn, putting a hand up to his cheek. "You make me happy, Cullen. It shouldn't matter who or what _they_ are..." meaning Sera and Josephine, "She _shouldn't_ be ashamed." she sighed. "And neither should I. What does it matter where we are from?...Cullen, I..."

     He knew what she was going to say. It would be the wrong thing to say at a time like that...considering everything that had been on his mind lately. He turned away from her, leaning against the wall. Trying to find words. She was right. Love should hold no bounds. It carried its weight across the world. Carried itself across realms even, if it had to. And he couldn't fight what was in his heart.

     "Serana...I care for you deeply...but I..." he cleared his throat, turning around to see the disappointment already forming in her features. "The best way I can prove that...is by getting you home, as soon as possible...where you will be safe." he exhaled.

     She swallowed, her heart probably dropping to her feet. But she tried to hide it, holding her head high. "Who's to say I'm any safer in Skyrim...I don't care about being _safe_." she drew near, taking his hands and placing them around her waist, making his heart race with the look she gave him. "I'm safer with you. And right now, telling me you care for me, only makes me want to stay even more." she smiled a little.

     "Would you rather I pushed you away then?" he asked absentmindedly. She laughed at that.

     "You couldn't even if you tried, Commander." she said, then stood up on her toes to kiss him. By the Maker, it felt like his heart would jump right out of his chest. The way she placed her hands on his shoulders, touching him softly, trying to reach him, so he made it easier for her, sweeping her up into his arms, and carrying her to his quarters nearby, before he could change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I had full intention of this being a juicy smut chapter with the Serana/Cullen pair but...I let my heart guide me lol and went with a romantic flare.)
> 
> (I think technically it is rather non-canon/out of character for Josie to be so out of joint about a f/f relationship, considering she is romanceable by both a female or male but...it makes sense with where I want to go with the story, and it gave me an excuse to shed a little light on the differences in view towards marriage/family in Skyrim and Inquisition. i.e. in Skyrim, marriage is not defined by gender, and children are adopted. For more info about this, see the Skyrim: Hearthfire DLC as well as Marriage in the TES Wikia)


	39. Secrets Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories long forgotten to the Dragonborn slowly come to light, and Mira makes a choice she may come to regret.

     It started raining, the sound of it pounding on the roof of Honeyside, and within it, people stirred, restless, unable to sleep though the sound of the rain would've been soothing any other night. But that night it wasn't, because there were far too many concerning matters to muse upon. They made Mira pace, and Brynjolf simply watched her, silent for a moment.

     "Tell me the truth, lass." Brynjolf finally said, almost out of nowhere. "Who is Fox?"

     That question made her whip around, to eye him for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. She didn't have one. She, honestly, had no idea who he was, though...He seemed familiar enough, and certainly knew things about her. Knew enough to mention her being raised by Khajiit...sounded like Khara sometimes when he spoke. Though he resembled more of Kha'tri with his forceful tone, his persistence, and slight agitation at the fact that she didn't remember him, a fact he seemed highly disappointed by. And he gave them the name of Khatani. Kha'tri's family name. Surely there were many Khajiit who shared that name, in Cyrodil, and perhaps even Elsweyr, the native land Khajiit hailed from. It was plausible he was a relative, but she had never met him...had she?

     "Mira?" Brynjolf asked, and Mira realized she had been staring at him, neglecting to provide an answer to his question. She simply gaped at him still.

     "He's...he's...I don't know." she let out a sigh, almost shaking her head, turning away from him to sit nearby on a chair. Brynjolf got up.

     "Why are you lying to me? I know when you're lying." he wrinkled his brow. "What are you holding in?" he asked. Mira brushed a hair from her face.

     "He said his name is Khatani. That's...Kha'tri's family name." she admitted. "He's...family, of some kind."

     "Of _some kind_?!" Brynjolf got angry. "You told me your family was _dead_. That both Kha'tri and Khara were dead, Mira, and you never mentioned him before..." he shook his head. 

     "I...can't remember him, for some reason." she stated, knowing that this only raised more questions in Brynjolf's mind.

     "I don't like this one bit, Mira. I think he's playing you. I don't think we can trust him."

     "We can. He saved my life, Brynjolf! Without his magic the Anchor would've killed me! What more evidence do you need?"

     "Yes but _why_ did he save you, hmm?...How can we be sure he didn't play a hand in the demons popping up in Cyrodil? Oh, and _why_ does he know we are Nightingales? What more is he keeping from us? Better yet...Why are _you_ keeping things from me?" Brynjolf darted over to her at his last question, an accusatory one. She stood up to face him.

     "You may have secrets you keep from everyone else, Mira, but you've _never_ kept them from me!" he spat. "I thought that after everything that's happened-"

     "This is the Fade, isn't it?" she interrupted, making him eye her quizzically. "Making you paranoid? Whatever you saw in it, perhaps, has you on edge still? Making you think I'm keeping secrets from you?"

     He growled in anger. "It's _not_ that damned demon world!" he scathed. "What I saw there..." he growled again. "I...I _can't do this_." he nervously ran a hand through his amber locks then down over his face. Then he turned to walk away, out of the manor, in fact.

     "Where are you going?" she asked, starting after him.

     "To the Flagon. Where at least _something_ in this world makes sense. I need a drink, and Hawke drank all your mead." he slammed the door shut.

     Mira paced in agitation for a moment before letting out a yell and slamming the nearest thing from her, a small chest on a table at the end of the bed. It flew off and broke, spilling it's contents to the floor. A few potions, one of which shattered, the red liquid staining the fur rug.

     In that instant, Mira flew from the room, out the back door, with full intention of going after him, but...there was a voice behind her, making her stop.

     "Where is your Nightingale running off to, one wonders?" asked Fox, and Mira growled, whirling around to face him, angrily stomping over to where he leaned against the railing of the porch, pointing her finger at his furry face.

     "This is _your_ fault!" she snapped at him. "Brynjolf thinks I'm lying to him, because I _can't_ explain to him who you are, and _you_ won't tell me!"

     "This one _can't_ tell you!" he scathed. "It is...not for him to share." he sighed.

     "This is getting us nowhere!" she stated, then she snatched him up by the collar. "And getting you closer to a swift, but painful _death_!" she grunted out, making him hiss at her threat.

     "Go ahead! _Try_ to kill me! Then you will _never_ get answers, will you? That is what your mind is telling you, yes? Because you are _curious_?...Curious how the winds have changed this time?"

     That last sentence made her anger leave her. She stopped breathing, it seemed, as she heard him repeat words very similar to those she'd heard long ago...so long ago it felt like a dream. A dream of a time when a sword was too heavy to lift.

     "Perhaps this one is curious...as to why she feels like something is always missing? Memories long forgotten, bits of them, pieces, fragments that do not fit completely together?" Fox's voice was low, calm and even as he asked her those things. And what he said made sense. "You can have those pieces back, M'ira Khatani...if you allow it."

     The way it sounded when he said her name...

* * *

     ...Years ago, Khara tucked Mira in bed at camp, running a claw through her hair in a motherly fashion, though, truthfully, Mira had no idea if mothers really did that. She'd never had one. And this one was not human, but a Khajiit, that took her in, along with her husband, fed her, clothed her, and gave her a name. M'ira Khatani.

     "What did Kha'tri mean about the winds changing?" little Mira asked Khara.

     "Kha'tri means that everything changes." Khara replied. "But we have memories. Memories to hold onto, once everything on the outside is different."

     No. She didn't. She lost them, didn't she? Some of them...And hearing Fox say her name, somehow, made them flood back, and Mira inhaled, feeling herself being pulled into that memory, only what wasn't there before, was there now.

     After Khara left the tent that night...another face appeared, didn't it? Another Khajiit, with black fur, and light blue eyes. She liked that about them...that even though they were so different on the outside, they had similar eyes, as if he were family still, somehow, and he had been gone, trading with Bretons that travelled north as they travelled south, meeting en route to their destination, Cyrodil. M'Shan had returned, and suddenly little Mira wasn't tired anymore.

     "You're back, brother!" she said warmly, and saw his fangs when he grinned. "Kha'tri made me hold a sword today." she said as he lifted her from the bed to sit in his lap.

     "Did he now?" he asked, raising a dark brow in interest. "And how did it go?"

     Mira sighed. "I can't hold it up. Khara says the bigger I get, the lighter it will be, but..." she groaned. "Aren't Nords like me supposed to be _good_ with swords?"

     M'Shan hissed. "No. You are _not_ a Nord, little sister." he said, making her cock her head to the side in confusion. "Not anymore. You are whatever you _want_ to be."

     "But, Kha'tri said-"

     " _Forget_ what Khatri said." M'Shan hugged her shoulders a little. "Kha'tri has lots of heart, so much that it overflows like a river but...he cannot see past his own nose. He cannot see past your human features. He cannot see that you must find your own path to follow. Tomorrow...I will show you." he nuzzled her face with his nose and purred.

* * *

     ...Like a bolt of lightning flashing in the sky, so was the beating of Mira's heart. She still stood there, on the back porch of Honeyside, clutching Fox by the collar still, though she had loosened some of her grip. A tear had fallen from her cheek and slipped into the rain splattering her face. She sucked in a ragged breath, and exhaled just as raggedly.

     Under her arm, she could feel Fox's heart race, just as hers did.

     "This one remembers?" he asked gently. She started to tear up once more, the feeling of a thousand dragons flapping their wings, thundering in the dark, emanating from her chest. She almost started to sob.

     "This one remembers, brother." she exhaled.

     He wrapped his arms around her. There was more, so much more, she was sure that she had yet to remember but...for now it was enough. It was a start. She pulled away a little, still needing a moment to process what had just happened to her. There were voices behind her, and the sound of the door opening.

     "What happened?" Karliah asked. Mira sighed.

     "Brynjolf is gone." she answered, though...that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her more was the fact that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scars on Fox's face.

* * *

 

     M'Shan was a mere fifteen when Kha'tri found the little girl in the back of the wagon. The human girl with an ugly gash on her face. Kha'tri had pitied her, so he, Khara, and their son, M'Shan, took her in. And soon, she didn't look so half starved, so beaten. _Who would treat a child in such a way?..._ M'Shan had often wondered this, though it was years before M'ira ever told him.

     "Stop staring at me." the little girl scathed in an angry manner, the first night she stayed with them. He couldn't help it, the wound looked like it hurt, and M'Shan couldn't help but pity her. It would make her strong, yes, but right now she did not need to be so strong, for she was only a child, and should be doing child things. Running, playing, leaping from rocks, and laughing. But she didn't want to do any of those things. Only hide in the tent.

     "This one is sorry for staring." he said to her. "Does it still hurt?"

     "Yes. Now leave me alone!" she snapped. "Stop looking at me like I'm a _freak_!...Like I'm a _monster_!" she started to cry. "Everyone looks at me like that, and now _you_ do too!"

     M'Shan sat up straighter, baffled by her behavior. He stopped staring, but...he wasn't sure what to do so that she wouldn't feel that way.

     "One is not a monster." he said, as he stared at the fire. "One should never feel that way." he let out a sigh.

     Without a second thought, he reached up and raked his claws against his face, feeling the searing pain, and the blood that ran down his cheek.

     It made the little girl jump back in surprise. Quickly the girl got up and grabbed a rag nearby, as if by instinct, clambered across the bedrolls and pressed it up to his face. Dabbing away the blood.

     "Why did you _do that_?" she asked, a look of concern in her glittering eyes.

     "Now this one is not alone." he said. The girl sat back.

     "I've...I've always been alone." she said. "I was always..."

     "Afraid?" M'Shan asked. She nodded. "Do not be afraid, alaran." he said to her.

     _Do not be afraid_...

* * *

     Mira turned to Karliah, Cassandra, and Hawke, who had been standing there on the porch, baffled by Brynjolf suddenly leaving, and expecting answers. She had none. Though she had an idea.

     "Ready yourselves to leave." she said to them. "We're going to High Hrothgar. I must speak to Parthanaax." 

     "Hmm, the dragon that Shouted the friends of the Dragonborn to this...Thedas, yes?" Fox asked, and Mira eyed him for a moment before nodding.

     "What about Brynjolf?" Karliah asked her.

     "We don't have time to wait." Mira sighed. "He made his choice." she spat, perhaps a little too angrily.

     "Perhaps I should stay behind then." Karliah said to her. "There is much going on here in Skyrim that we have yet to understand, and if there's a chance you don't return..." Mira sighed at those words. "My instructions were to find you and bring you back, and nothing else." Karliah continued. "My job is done, and perhaps, I can help here, if you don't-" 

     "I _will_ return." Mira assured her. "I will find a way." she put a hand on Karliah's shoulder. "There is something you can do for me. In the basement of the house there is a hidden panel. Under it is a chest, inside the chest is a bow. Take it to the Dawnguard Fortress. Give it to the one called Isran...If Isran is a vampire, shoot him with it instead."

     Karliah nodded at her words, assuring she would complete the task. "Here." Mira said to her, handing her the Nightingale bow. Karliah shook her head.

     "It was a gift, Mira. Keep it this time." she said. Mira sighed. "Keep that bow, and I'll go to Dawnguard." she assured, and Mira could see her rueful smile. Finally, Mira nodded, then moved to hug Karliah...just in case she was right, and Mira didn't return, and she'd never see her friend again. Then, after watching Karliah slip back into the house, she watched Hawke and Cassandra come back out with their things, indicating they were ready.

     "So much for resting." Cassandra yawned, and Mira hung her head a little.

     "You know, when I pictured this place...I never thought I'd be exploring it in the dark, and rain." Hawke sighed. "Completely different picture of it in mind, you know."

     Mira turned to Fox. "Don't even bother to ask." he said. "You know this one comes with you." Her heart leapt at those words, and she didn't know why. How much more of him would she remember in the days to come? And what sort of memories did they share?

     Mira could only pull her hood over her head, suddenly grateful for it, and ignore the way her hand shook holding that bow. She never wanted to hold one again. Never imagined she would. She inhaled deeply as she departed from the one place she had longed to go back to, for so long, but felt the lump in her throat, for at that moment, it was no longer home. She didn't know where that was, honestly.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alaran is Ta'agran for 'diamond'. The brief conversation between Khara and Mira is elaborated upon in "Heavy Burdens and Changing Winds". And...now we know 'how the Joker got his scars'...lol)
> 
> (Please no one hate Brynjolf for leaving, or Mira deciding to possibly leave him behind...it shall all be explained later)


	40. The Truth, Take It Or Leave it

     While Mira had paced upstairs in Honeyside, and Brynjolf questioned the motives of her new ally...the others downstairs couldn't sleep either. Both Cassandra and Hawke sat slumped against the wall, Hawke, half drunk, and Cassandra visibly irritated. Karliah listened to their conversation from a distance, pretending to be asleep.

     "I'm still trying to get over the fact that there are talking cats here." Hawke stated, making Cassandra chuckle a little.

     "I'm trying to get over the fact that we are _here_." Cassandra said to him.

     "...I heard you got upset at Varric before Adamant." Hawke said casually. "For that, I am sorry. You shouldn't hold against him what he thought was right." he said, and Karliah heard Cassandra groan.

     "I know. You're the _second_ person to tell me that." she said.

     "And who was the first?" Hawke asked, and Karliah imagined he was raising a brow in curiosity.

     "Vilkas...a friend of Mira's. From Skyrim...or should I say, here." her voice was less than enthusiastic. "He's a lot like Mira, though...I have to say, Mira is...different, lately."

     "What is she like? Rumor is, you pulled her out of the Temple of Sacred Ashes after the Conclave. You've been with her all this time. Is she... _really_ a dragon?" he said that last part quietly, as if he were embarrassed about asking such a thing. Cassandra snorted.

     "She's _not_ a dragon...I don't think. She's...gifted, from what I see. Fearless, most of the time. Smiles a lot. She always seems so strong, so...sure of herself, of who she is. But...Something has changed. Whether it was Adamant, or the Fade or...this new friend of hers...Something makes her afraid, though, I'm still unsure what exactly she is afraid of."

     "Mira is afraid of Fear itself." Karliah stated as she rolled over to face them at the far end of the room, propping herself up with an elbow. Both Hawke and Cassandra gave her strange looks. They were curious as to what she meant. "It's a human thing. Not a 'dragon thing'." she said to Hawke.

     "Mira told me she was afraid of being alone, but...there was more to her story that she never got to finish." Cassandra said to her. So Karliah got up and moved to sit next to her, slumping against the wall. Wondering where to begin. There was obviously a lot this woman didn't know of Mira, and there was much that was probably not any of her business to share but...

     She sighed. "This story never leaves this room." she said to them. 

     Both Cassandra and Hawke nodded.

     "When Mira came home to Skyrim, after having been gone for many years, since she was a child, I believe, she came home for one purpose. And one purpose only. To kill someone."

     "Kill someone?" Cassandra's eyes widened.

     "Yes, hard to believe someone so noble in nature could be capable of premeditated killing, isn't it?...But that was why she returned. To find the woman that gave her that scar you see mucking up her face." Karliah glanced over at them. Noticing their curiosity. "Things changed when she was captured by Imperial soldiers. Caught in an ambush. They'd caught the rebellious Ulfric Stormcloak you've met. Dragged him and his cohorts to a village called Helgen for beheading..." she had to fight the urge to scour at the fact that they hadn't succeeded. "Mira along with them. Then...a dragon attacked. Laying waste to the village. A creature thought to be legend, returned, in the flesh. Some, including Mira and Ulfric, managed to escape. And sometime after, Mira learned she was Dragonborn."

     "You meant to say, she didn't always know? Didn't always have those powers of hers?" Cassandra was brimming with curiosity.

     "No. She didn't. It was something she discovered here in her homeland. Something she couldn't escape, once she did, for Fate is a stubborn creature. It doesn't let go once it gets ahold of you...Mira was a good person, deep inside, and couldn't resist running off to the nearest city to warn of the dragon attack. She had many other things she found herself tied up in, mainly, destiny. But...still, her motive persisted. One she pursued when she learned that the woman who gave her that scar was still alive, still right here in Riften, at Honor Hall."

     "The...orphanage." Cassandra commented. Karliah nodded. Maybe she wasn't so clueless after all.

     "A woman named Grelod the Kind. Ironic, that that was her name." Karliah scoffed. 

     "And Mira... _killed_ her?" Hawke asked, and the question greatly disturbed Cassandra, who got up and started pacing as Karliah continued to speak.

     "She did...and the children laughed. And danced...and played...so happy they were rid of her. It...sickened her. That they should so enjoy the life of another taken, for she took no pleasure in it. Not really. She killed her so that children like the one she once was...would never fear Grelod's cruelty again. But that wasn't the whole of it. What she did attracted attention. Particularly, the attention of the Dark Brotherhood. The guild of assassins, known throughout Tamriel for their horrific deeds. Grelod had already been contracted to the Brotherhood, and she...stole their contract. They captured her one night as she slept, and aimed to recruit her, thinking she would be the perfect addition to their little...'family'. They offered her a choice. To kill, or be killed. A life for a life. Kill for a kill. Kill one of the three individuals bound and blindfolded in front of her. Or suffer the fate of Grelod the Kind. Though, she didn't even know what they had done. What crimes they had committed to earn such a fate. She knew her own crime, and that of Grelod's but...she knew not what those poor souls had done. She knew she wasn't Brotherhood material, so to speak. So she killed the assassin instead." Karliah sighed. "She hasn't touched a bow since. Her hand still shakes."

     "How do you know all of this?" Cassandra asked, as if expecting it to be an elaborate lie. No, hoping was the better word. 

     "She told me this after she avenged my lover's death. When she handed back the bow I gave her, the one that _thief_ outside _stole_." she growled. "I'm betting he knows about it too, and that's why he gave it to her. I'm betting he knows a lot more than either of them is letting on." Karliah remarked.

     "You're telling me Mira Ironhide...the Dragonborn...the one thought to be the Herald of Andraste...the one we call _Inquisitor_...is a murderer?!" Cassandra got angry.

     "You don't get it, do you?" Karliah asked her as she stood up. "You call her a 'dragon in human form', true?...But you only see the dragon. You don't see the human. You see her heroic deeds; slaying dragons, closing the breach in your sky that rained demons down upon you. You see that magic on her hand, the fire she breathes...and ignore everything else. You ignore that she is capable of anger, fear, jealousy...hatred...And now I understand what Parthanaax truly meant..." she said that last part more to herself than to them. "That's why she let him live, you see. The dragon that brought us to Thedas. She ignored her purpose for one final moment, to do what was _right_. For Parthanaax had overcome his evil nature. Instead of serving the World Eater, he chose to help teach Mira the Way of the Voice. Taught her the fire breath she wields so easily. And Mira let that old, tired dragon live, because she had overcome her evil nature as well. Don't you see, Cassandra? Mira wasn't just... _born_ a hero. Something better. She _earned_ the right to be called a hero."

     Cassandra soaked in her words. She didn't say anything for a moment.

     "So she...killed an assassin..." Hawke mused. "Wonder how many deaths she avenged, just by that."

     "Many." Karliah stated. "Many to make up for the ones she had taken."

     "And suddenly, everything I feared...doesn't matter at all." Cassandra said quietly.

     Just then, they heard the back door slam shut up stairs. The three of them glanced back and forth at one another, then headed upstairs to investigate. 

* * *

     Though Karliah desperately wanted to know why Fox knew she was a Nightingale, she also knew there was a more pressing matter. For once. Brynjolf went down into the Ratway, and Mira was leaving without him. This was odd, very much so. Considering everything that got them this far had been riding on Brynjolf's determination, his unwillingness to give up on finding Mira and returning her to Skyrim. His love and devotion for her. And he hadn't left her side since finding her in Thedas, and when she was laying in Honeyside, near death from the magic on her hand, Brynjolf had been distraught.

     So why leave then?

     Karliah did as requested and found the bow inside the chest in the basement. Auriel's bow. She had heard of it. A device that, when wielded by the right individual, became a formidable weapon against undead, wield the very power of the sun. Serana had mentioned it before, revealing that it was the reason she needed to find Mira, for Mira was the only one to know it's location. But instead of heading straight to the Dawnguard, she made at stop at the Ragged Flagon, where she found Brynjolf at the bar, close to plastered already. Much like he had been when she told him Mira was missing weeks before. She folded her arms and pursed her lips as she watched him lazily raise a cup to his face and drain its contents.

     "Mira is headed to High Hrothgar." she said to him, but he looked like he was trying to ignore her, trying to pretend he wasn't interested in this fact. "I believe that she's going to try that little trick we used." she said as she sat down beside him, lowering her voice to be discreet in front of the other guild members, who were watching, curious. "I'm staying behind, but if you leave now, you can catch up to her." she told him. He grunted.

     "Mira doesn't need me." he stated. "She never did."

     "Don't be stupid." Karliah rolled her eyes. "That's your drink talking."

     "No, it isn't. Not yet. This is only the first one, lass." he grabbed the bottle of wine to pour another. Then he sighed. 

     "All that mattered to you was finding her, Bryn. And...now you don't care at all? Bloody liar. Don't pretend you don't." she scathed.

     "That's not it, Karliah." he pressed, looking over at her. He sighed again, tapping his finger on the bar, not sure what to say to her, probably. "It's...the fact that she left in the first place." he said. "This... _whatever_ all of this is...it's _bigger_ than I ever thought it would be. I tried to ignore it, but...I'm just a thief, Karliah. Always have been. And Mira..." he faltered, uncomfortable with continuing.

     "Having issues?...Is the 'honeymoon' over then?" Karliah joked, and Brynjolf grumbled. "Does this have anything to do with...Fox?" she asked.

     "She kept things from me. And...I suppose she had her reasons but...I never expected any of it and..." he sighed. "Maybe I'm...maybe she's...better off if I let it go. After all, she's got a world to go save...again."

     "Bryn..." Karliah groaned. "Fine. That's your choice to make, but you can't just let go so easily. Not if you...you know...not if you _love_ her."

     "Why? Because you can't let go? It's been a quarter of a century, Karliah. And Mercer's dead, and...you still cling to Gallus like you're afraid he'll _haunt_ you if you move on. He's gone, but you're still here. He wouldn't want this for you. He's not going to hold it against you for _living_. For moving on, you know. He'd probably do the same."

     "That's different." she said firmly, glaring at him. "My feelings about that are not what's important here. What's important is that...that you understand _exactly_ what you're letting go, _before_ you decide to do it. Mira is still alive. There's still-"

     "Just stop." Brynjolf interrupted. "Don't act like you understand it. I'm tired." he got up from the bar. "We'll speak another time, I'm sure." he said before heading to the cistern.

     Karliah drummed her fingers on the bar. Damn it. He was right, wasn't he? And best she let him sort it out for himself, rather than her meddling in his affairs. And hope that Mira returned. For if not, she feared for what was going on inside Brynjolf's head, and what would happen to him if he and Mira didn't somehow make amends.

     Of course, what he said about Gallus stuck in her mind. Tempting her to enter the Sepulcher. Attempt to commune with him...Oh, such a stupid thought.

     Karliah grabbed the wine from the table and poured herself a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes...if it hasn't been made obvious by previous chapters, now you know that Grelod's death actually played an important role in Mira's backstory...and there is more to this. much more.


	41. Amending The Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas has a drink with Varric...Leliana receives unexpected information from Solas and Neloth...and Dorian has a proposition for Bull.

     Vilkas slumped in the tavern, almost in a drunken stupor. But he wasn't the only one. There was someone else, a very short man, reddish blonde hair, who sat in the stairwell, holding a bottle of wine. Nursing it, almost clinging to it for dear life, it seemed. The look on the man's face was one of loss. Vilkas had seen it before. He grabbed up his own bottle, walked over, and slumped down next to him. Varric was his name. He jumped a little in surprise.

     "Oh. It's you." he said to Vilkas.

     "You're...Varric, right?" he asked before taking a swig from his bottle. Varric nodded.

     "Vilkas?" he asked, and Vilkas nodded. "You're the tall guy who walked in on Cassandra trying to rip my head off." Again, Vilkas nodded, resisting a smile. With the way things were going on around Skyhold lately, the joke that came to mind wasn't appropriate, even if it did take his mind off of Cassandra being missing.

     "You and your friends got pretty angry with one another, the other day." Vilkas commented. "In times like these, you should be banding together, not tearing each other apart."

     Varric huffed. "Tell _them_ that." he said before taking a swig of wine. "But good luck, because none of them want to accept the truth."

     Vilkas sighed. "How do you know it's the truth? They've found no bodies, no signs that they are dead. They're just...gone."

     "I don't get how such a big, intimidating looking guy like you can be so... _upbeat_." Varric remarked. "It's...unsettling. Downright weird, honestly...Best keep that sunshine attitude of yours to yourself, 'tall guy'." Varric's sarcasm was a thin veil over the discomfort he felt, and Vilkas understood it.

     "Trust me, Varric, it's _not_ all sunshine...I..." he cleared his throat, "look highly upon Lady Cassandra...and the fact that she is missing is...It bothers me too."

     Varric looked up at him. "Holy shit, you're in love with her, aren't you?" Varric asked, and Vilkas rubbed his temple, unsure exactly how to reply to that statement. "Well, at least some things make sense now. And she's...gone. And...I'm sorry." Varric relented. "Here's to losing the people who matter most to us, then." he clinked his bottle to Vilkas', in a sullen toast. "Hawke and Pentaghast." he sighed. Then he took another long drink. Such a large amount of wine, for such a little person, but Vilkas had to hand it to him how well he could hold down his alcohol.

     "I miss Mira calling me 'little man' right now." he sighed. "You know, you remind me of her. She always had something good to say, even in the worst situation. Nothing ever got to her, you know? When a dragon besieged Haven she ran right out to fight it, singled handedly if she had to, and when she was told the Elder One wanted her dead, you know what she did? She laughed and said, 'Let him have me then! I'll kill _him_ too!'" Varric almost laughed a little. Vilkas chuckled.

     The both of them sighed.

     "...So, Varric Tethras...You're a writer. I understand you wrote that book, Swords and Shields..." Vilkas glanced down at him, raising a brow.

     "Oh geeze, how do you know about that?" Varric looked up.

     "Cassandra really likes your book." Vilkas replied to his question, and Varric actually laughed. "But I noticed it doesn't have an ending. Maybe you could write one, for her to read when she gets back."

     Varric sighed again, shaking his head.

     "It'll keep your hands busy at least." Vilkas shrugged.

     "Yeah, and just pretend she's actually coming back?" Vilkas couldn't help but glare at Varric for a moment with that sentence. Varric sighed. "Alright. Couldn't hurt...I can't believe she actually likes that cheesy stuff. I mean, it's easily the _worst_ thing I've ever written."

     "You're the writer. If it's bad, whose fault is that?" Vilkas winked.

     "Yeah yeah...I know." Varric shook his head.

     It was good to pretend at least. Pretend for a moment she was coming back. Imagine the flustered look on her face when she found out Varric knew she was reading his book. Imagine her flying into his arms, as short as she was, compared to him, lifting her off the ground with his embrace...easily throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off, neither of them to be seen or heard from again. That thought made Vilkas smile a little.

     But it wasn't his imagination. He knew she would come back. Somehow. Whether it was there in the flesh or in the afterlife, he'd see her again. He still believed in Fate. Perhaps when he fell in battle, and his spirit was carried to Sovengarde, he'd ask the Heroes of Old which way it was to Cassandra's afterlife, and meet her there.

     Vilkas drained his bottle dry.

* * *

     "The date for the Winter Palace event has been delayed for another month." said Leliana, as she entered Solas' study, all but ignoring the progress of the beautiful murals painted on the vaulted walls. "A blessing, honestly, as it buys us more time to deal with the matters at hand." she stood next to Solas, and folded her arms, watching as the dark skinned, red eyed elf, Neloth, tinkered with something on the desk. "Is _this_ why you asked for me?" she asked them, gesturing to the object.

     "With Lady Josephine and the Commander heading to Val Royeux, it leaves you in charge of the keep, doesn't it?" said Solas, in the usual calm and collected manner in which he spoke. "I figured you would be interested in this...this...what did you say it was called?" he asked Neloth.

     "Essentially, it's a miniature Oculory." the dark elf stated, matter-of-factly. "Though it's been nothing more than a _dreadful_ imitation of the real thing lately, _very_ hard to fabricate, considering I'm working with mostly foreign materials." he rubbed the goatee on his elongated chin, almost humming in his distaste towards the situation. Or was that just him, naturally?

     The device in question was an oval shaped dome, with bronze rings capping the top of it, crystals protruding from the top. It, in a way, resembled the device used to translate Dwarven memory crystals, though unlike anything Leliana had ever seen. How in Andraste's name Neloth had built it, without anyone's knowledge, Leliana could only wonder. That elf must've been craftier than she originally guessed. Though no doubt he worked out a deal with Herrit, the blacksmith, to gather the materials.

     "What is it supposed to do?" she asked him. 

     "It's a device used to locate sources of power, arcane power, to be exact. Well, _supposed_ to. The conundrum of actually using it has been completely lost on me, until now." he wrinkled a brow.

     "What do you mean?" she asked, overwhelmed with curiosity now. "And why have you _needed_ such a device?" she pried.

     "To locate Mira, of course." he stated gruffly. "No body? She's not dead. I'm most certain she's just...elsewhere. I had hope to use it to somehow track down the Anchor, being an arcane force connected to the Fade. Using knowledge Solas has so kindly shared with me about these...rifts, and the energy they emit, perhaps we could find the Anchor, and in turn, Mira and the others with her."

     "I had already been trying to do such a thing, on my own." stated Solas tersely. "And I've come up empty handed. Though Neloth assures me this will somehow work better. If he can get it to _work_." By the tone of Solas' voice, he sounded like he didn't completely believe Neloth, and most likely thought the wizard was daft. Leliana smiled a little at this.

     "I _can_ get it to work." Neloth scathed. "I couldn't get it to work before, because this device requires certain types of elemental magic to produce results, magic that is conjured through...Magika."

     Both Solas and Leliana raised a brow in sudden interest. Neloth smirked.

     With one hand, he conjured a ball of fire, and the other, tendrils of ice, and then applied both to the device, that waxed and waned of its own accord, focusing the metal rings, through which a white light emanated then, projecting some sort of image onto the table. With a flick of his wrists, the magic spouting from his fingertips dissipated.

     "There is now Magika in Thedas." Neloth said, surprisingly, in a serious tone. "Which tells me that whatever barrier that once was, between this realm and that of Tamriel, is weakening. The realms are converging."

     Both Solas and Leliana eyed the image on the table, projecting over a map of Thedas, as the elf spoke. There were specks of light all over it, though Leliana wasn't quite sure what it all meant just yet. Her heart was pounding rapidly in her chest.

     " _These_ spikes in energy are the Fade rifts." Neloth stated, pointing out how the small beams of light directly coincided in pattern with reported rifts, marked on the map. "However... _this_..." he pointed to something else, a larger speck of light, oddly, right where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been located. "This is not energy even remotely related to the Fade. This is what can only be defined as a breach between Thedas and Tamriel. It's energy is pure Magika. Though it was small at first, probably a portal that didn't completely close, or some similar instance, but it is slowly growing larger. Large enough that I am actually able to tap into the source."

     "Could this explain how Mira came to Thedas in the first place?" Solas asked him, drawing Leliana's attention away from the map briefly.

     "Oh, not only could it _explain_ it, but I have no doubt in my mind that this _is_ how Mira got here originally." Neloth turned his attention to Leliana. "I assume I would need your permission to travel to this location to study it further?" he asked her rather dryly. Leliana took a deep breath, trying to conceal how nervous she felt.

     "I can make the proper arrangements. Better that we get to it first, before knowledge of it ends up in the wrong hands. Presuming it hasn't already." she spoke calmly, and Neloth thanked her. Then, somehow, he deactivated the device, and the muted chiming sound it made ceased, and it was quiet in the room. Neloth put the device in a wooden box, and carted it off, taking it upstairs, probably to the spot in the tower where he had been residing, mumbling something about not wanting anyone to break it. Then, it was only her and Solas in the room.

     "Are we to believe what we have just seen, Solas?" she asked quietly, still staring at the map on the table. 

     "That Neloth can use magic? Or that we may have possibly discovered the origin in which Mira was sent to us?" Solas leaned his head to the side. She nodded, indicating to him that both were astounding to her. Solas was silent for a moment, as if trying to ascertain this information himself.

     "I...apologize for my words the other day, Sister Leliana." Solas commented, almost startling Leliana with the suddenness of it.

     "Calling me a simple-minded fool for assuming the only explanation was that they are dead?" she asked rather wryly. "Apology accepted." she sighed. "If we are to believe the discovery Neloth has made...I may have to accept that the answer is far more complicated than originally thought." Solas nodded in agreement at her words.

     "Now, the question remaining." Solas looked up, his grey eyes gleaming even in the dim light of the room. "Do you still believe your Maker had a hand in it?"

     Solas turned to walk away, and distract himself with something else, and Leliana found she couldn't even be angered by his erroneous statement. For what he asked made a lot of sense. Though...only time would tell the answer. And for now, that time could be well spent planning a trip to the Valley of Sacred Ashes.

     Back to where it all began.

* * *

     Dorian strolled past the overly large man in the stairwell, Vilkas was his name, he thought, who looked so awfully comical sitting next to Varric, in such an ironic manner, to march up to another overly large creature occupying the tavern. A Qunari named Iron Bull, of which he found himself still a little uncomfortable being in close proximity to...but that was outweighed by the discomfort brought by the letter Dorian still clutched angrily in his fist.

     "You know, as large as you are, you're still a hard man to track down, Iron Bull." Dorian said to him upon approach, making the Chargers that sat nearby, drinking and playing cards, eye him with minor interest.

     "Funny, because I don't go anywhere else." Bull chagrined. "But it's a big castle so...What do I owe the pleasure of your company, Tevinter?" he asked. Dorian fidgeted.

     "Might I have a word with you? Alone?" he asked him, making Bull raise a brow. He sighed, then slowly got up to lead him to a more secluded corner of the tavern, away from prying ears. It was then that Dorian let out a heavy breath.

     "I have a proposition for you. Given your interest in coin, I assure you, it includes plenty of silver." Dorian folded his arms. "Mother Giselle was...kind enough to hand me a letter...from my family. My father expects me to meet with the family retainer in Redcliffe, and though it _pains_ me to go anywhere near my family, maybe...just maybe, it will royally _piss them off_ if _you're_ there." he grinned wildly, and Bull actually laughed.

     "Okay, you want me to go to Redcliffe with you?" he asked. Dorian nodded.

     "You can...be my body guard, I suppose. I could use an extra hand should we encounter demons or the like along the way, and should things go sourly when we get there, I'd very much enjoy someone _pummeling_ the family retainer utterly _senseless_. I imagine under different circumstances I would've asked Mira to tag along. It's definitely her sort of thing." he cleared his throat. "Her fire breath would've been fun..."

     "Wow, you...hate your family that much?" Bull chuckled.

     "More than you'll _ever_ know. So, interested?" Dorian perked up. 

     Bull shrugged. "Alright. How much silver are we talking here?" he leaned his head in interest.

     "Just name your price." Dorian affirmed, unable to resist a bit of a prideful grin. But Bull surprised him a bit, with his words.

     "How about this...We get there first, see how it goes..." he leaned in close. "Then discuss payment." he smirked.

     Oh if only that big brute _knew_ what it sounded like he was insinuating. Dorian found this encounter...interesting. He heated up with excitement as Bull walked away. He wondered briefly if he might actually end up thoroughly enjoying this venture with the notorious Iron Bull.  
   
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I though I should note on how irritating it is to write this story sometimes, given that both Karliah and Leliana are given the title of Nightingale, which is why I never refer to Leliana by that name, and since Karliah tried to safeguard her secret, it never comes up in conversation between one another that they ironically share that title. In my mind, I see Leliana's title as more of a nickname, given her nature, to separate from the fact that Nightingale is the title given to those that closely serve Nocturnal...anyhow...enough of my rambling. carry on. (I'm weird. Obviously)


	42. Elven Arrows And Antivan Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera and Josephine discover some things about each other in Val Royeux...plus arrows. Arrows are always fun.

     Cullen had to go because he was the new head honcho, so to speak, and of course that meant Serana wanted to tag along, because her head was always stuffed so damned far up that man's ass it wasn't even funny, and Vivienne wanted to come because she _really_ wanted a break from the lack of stuffiness at Skyhold, and missed the stuffiness of Val Royeux. Didn't even ask why they were going either. But Sera? She wanted to find out why the bloody hell people were killing Josephine's people. And possibly sock some people full of arrows if needed. She had been itching for some action for a while, something to take her mind off what happened to Mira. And since the Grumpy Face herself actually let her come, she saw no reason not to.

     The trip was horrible though...well, not _that_ horrible. But weird.

     Cullen and Serana shared a tent together when they rested at night, not giving a damn that anyone knew they were shacking up, which made Sera giggle, trying to imagine Cullen actually doing it with someone. She half expected, given how obsessed he was with training, fighting, then more training, that he'd more likely shag a practice dummy than pretty little Serana. Lady Vivienne preferred her own tent, because, well...stuffy, you know? Really damned stuffy, that one. And Josephine...was oddly _shy_ about sharing a tent with Sera.

     She was weird about undressing in front of Sera, down to her undergarment for sleep, even though they were both female, and elves and humans had pretty much the same parts, so nothing new, right? Sera shrugged it off. Yeah, sure, it was weird being half naked in the same tent with the one woman she'd been, well, fantasizing about for weeks now. But not _that_ weird, considering the alternative. Being stuck in a tent with a half naked man bit for half the night. Eww.

     And Josephine didn't even snore. She was so...peaceful when she slept. Odd. Considering the woman did nothing but fret about _everything_ , day in and day out. Sera briefly wondered what Josephine dreamed about at night to make her so peaceful, before finally falling asleep herself.

     And waking up in the morning in a horrible position, smashed up against Josephine's back. Get a load of that. Good thing she woke up first and moved away before Josephine smacked her silly for _snuggling_ her in her sleep.

     At Val Royeux, things got _pretty_ interesting. Cullen and Josephine strode right on in at the mansion, where some tight knickered fellow named Boisvert sat waiting to meet them, and of course, Viv, Serana and Sera followed, though Sera chose to do her job, unlike the others, and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Of course, the only thing suspicious looking was the Comte fellow himself.

     "You are _not_ the one they call the Herald of Andraste." said Boisvert, stating the obvious with that one, as Cullen sat across from him. "Mira Ironhide, the...dragon woman." Boisvert hid his expression behind a mask, as most did in Orlais but...when he wanted a public meeting with the Quiz...why bother wearing a mask?

     "Observant of you." said Cullen very smoothly, leaning back in the chair. "Commander Cullen Rutherford. I am her second in command. She sent me in her stead, to assess the value of your information." Boivert huffed at Cullen's words.

     "Certainly you don't want to... _offend_ the graces of the Inquisitor by sending him away, do you?" Josephine raised a brow. Clever...make _him_ look like the idiot. Good one. Sera hated this wishy washy conversation, but she _did_ like watching Josephine play head games with the stuffy buffoon. He grumbled, then pushed a roll of parchment across the table.

     "It would...be my honor then, to indulge the both of you on this matter." he said reluctantly. "Have you heard of the House of Repose?" he asked, as Josephine eyed the paper on the table.

     "The assassins' league?" she asked. He nodded.

     "My contacts obtained a copy of a document from their archives. A contract for a life." he gestured to the paper, which Josephine picked up and read.

     "'The House of Repose is hereby sworn to eliminate _anyone_ attempting to overturn the Montilyet's trading exile in Orlais'." she read aloud. 

     "This... _could_ put you endanger, Lady Josephine." Cullen remarked. Damn right it could. _Josephine_ was the one who 'attempted to overturn' it.

     "The contract was signed by a noble family, the Du Paraquettes." said Boisvert.

     "But the Du Paraquettes were a noble family that died out one hundred and sixty years ago." said Josephine, wrinkling up her brow. But all Sera was listening to was the 'assassins', 'contract', and 'Josephine in danger' parts. And how weird it was the Boisvert knew so much about it.

     "Indeed. But the contract was signed one hundred and nine years ago." Boisvert slipped in.

     "How could a family pursue yours _after_ they died out, I wonder?" Cullen asked Josephine. "And why would assassins still pursue this contract after a century has passed?"

     "A contract is a contract." Josephine shrugged. Though clearly trying to hide being so uncomfortable with all this. "Orlesian businesses live and die by their reputations. The entire guild's welfare would be endangered if an agreement was tossed aside by a whim of time or fate." she explained. Oh... _now_ Orlesians decide to be honorable. When they're trying to _kill_ someone. Typical.

     "She's quite right, Commander." said Boisvert. "The House of Repose is doing what it feels is necessary...by its standards." he assured.

     "There are still descendants of the Du Paraquette family, off branches. Perhaps if I pushed the necessary papers to raise them to nobility, I could negotiate annulling the contract with them. I...thank you for this information, Comte Boisvert." Josephine nodded in her thanks. Boisvert moved to get up.

     "Hold a moment." said Sera, surprising everyone present. She shoved Boisvert back down in his seat. "Don't you think it's fishy he knows _so much_ about the House of Repose?" she asked angrily, jabbing a finger in his chest. "And don't you wonder how he managed to get a copy of a contract from a bunch of ruthless assassins? Centuries old assassins?"

     Cullen stood up. "You _are_ very well informed. We were aware your information was a...rumor, at best...You're... _not_ the Comte, are you?" he glared. So did Sera.

     "No, he's not." she stated. "He's one of them. And he's _not_ going anywhere."

     "It's alright, Miss Sera." said Josephine. "Let him go. I can handle this... _without_ further bloodshed." Sera turned to Josephine, and looked at her like she was an idiot, and the 'Comte' attempted to get up.

     "No. I don't think so." Sera scathed at him, but in a flash of smoke, he disappeared. Stealthy one, he was. Sera drew her bow, just in time to see three more assassins take his place and ascend on them.

     Josephine froze in fear and shock as the others engaged with the enemy, Vivienne powering up her staff, putting her Circle training to use. Serana turned out to be quite handy with a sword, much more than Sera would have ever given her credit for, and Cullen drew his own to slash at the ever quick, and ever disappearing and reappearing killers. Sera stood patiently, bow drawn, waiting for a good shot.

     One of them appeared and lunged at Josephine, who stepped back, throwing her hands up in front of her face, and yelped. Sera exhaled and loosed an arrow, that sunk into the assassin's skull, and protruded from the other side, seconds before they could strike Josephine. Sera darted over to make sure she hadn't been hit, while the others hacked an slashed about.

     Josephine was still frozen in fear, staring at the limp corpse at her feet, shaking. Sera grabbed her chin and lifted Josephine's gaze to hers.

     "You alright?" she asked her, and Josephine nodded. Though she was still very frightened, at least she wasn't hurt. Damn her for being such a passivist. Sera saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and drew again to fire on the assailant, her arrow making a "thwack" as it hit their shoulder, right in the socket.

     ...Once the fighting had ceased, the enemy dead at their feet, the real Comte Boisvert had woken up from where he had been knocked out and locked in a cupboard. To which at that point they managed to free him. All the real Comte could do, of course, was gripe about the handle on his cabinet being broken when they freed him. Ungrateful sod.

     But the damage was done, and when the others prepared to leave, to head back to Skyhold, Sera found Josephine out by the docks, leaning against the railing, looking out at the waterfront.

     "You're bloody daft, you know that?" Sera said to her when she approached. Josephine turned away from her, and picked at the paint on the rail. "You were going to let him get away." she scathed.

     "Don't act like you understand." Josephine said quietly, which angered Sera.

     "Oh but I _do_. You've got a group of _assassins_ after you, trying to _kill_ you for getting your family back in with Orlais, and you're answer is to make them others all nobles and do _what_? Say 'pretty please, remove the contract on my head'?" she asked her in a mocking tone. "Do you _really_ think that-"

     "You saved my life." Josephine interrupted breathlessly, turned to face Sera once more, and she could see exactly how upset the Antivan was. "Thank you." she said to Sera.

     "Yeah, well...I told you I'd sock an arrow for you, didn't I?" Sera asked. She noticed Josephine was still shaking, and starting to tear up.

     "Hey, it's alright." Sera moved to brush the tear from her cheek. "I shouldn't have...said all that, I suppose. I just..." Josephine had huge glittery looking eyes that were really distracting. Sera barely noticed that she still hand her hand up to Josephine's face, cupping her cheek. Not until Josephine placed a hand on hers...And then _bit her lip_.

     To _hell_ with possibly getting slapped. Sera kissed her anyway. At least she'd stop crying and get back to being angry as usual instead...only...

     Nope. None of that happened. No slapping, no getting angry, no trying to throw Sera into the water or anything...She kissed her back with the softest, sweetest kiss. Her lips felt like...felt like...Sera didn't have a word for it. Like...a warm fire, maybe? Something like that.

     The trip back from Val Royeux was still weird. Maybe even _more_ so, as everyone had something to chew on. Mira still being missing, assassins after Josephine, and all the other troubles of Thedas. But most of all, the fact that Josephine really didn't say much. In fact, talked less than before, even. She wasn't angry...just quiet.

     And again, they shared a tent together when stopping for the night. Though...this time, it was different than before. Josephine was nervous for a whole other reason. She'd...never been with a woman, had she? Words for Sera to throw around in her mind, as she and Josephine readied themselves for bed, each curling up under blankets slowly and quietly. Josephine shuddered under hers. She was cold, facing away from Sera and...She couldn't resist the urge to drape her arm around her waist and share the warmth.

     "Sera...about what was said in Val Royeux..." she started to say, but Sera snuggled closer.

     "No need to talk about it, really." Sera said to her, nuzzling the back of her head. "I think I get it, actually. You're like...the _one_ person in Orlais who's not trying to kill anyone." she giggled. "It's...not a bad thing, yeh?" she sighed. "You have your way of doing things, that's all."

     "As do you." said Josephine quietly. "I...I just..."

     "...Never thought the day would end like this?" Sera chuckled. She felt Josephine nod her head. "It could be _worse_." Sera jeered at her. Though, not really expecting Josephine's response.

     "Actually...I don't think it could be better." she said.

     Sera's heart pounded in her chest.

     Maybe Josephine could feel it, because she rolled over to face Sera. She couldn't see her face much in the dark, but she could feel Josephine bring her hand up to Sera's cheek, then reach behind her neck, to run her fingers through her hair. Her fingers brushed skin for a moment, making Sera shudder. Maybe it was time to show Lady Josephine exactly what had been on Sera's mind the past few weeks. 

     By the way she felt, the way she touched, she'd _obviously_ never been with a woman before...possibly had never been this close to _anyone_ before...It was new. To be this way with someone. Gentle. Instead of a rough tumble through the hay, so to speak, like she would've done with anyone else...But it was fun. The way she could actually take her time to feel every little detail. The softness of the Antivan's skin, the way the pads of her fingers lightly grazed skin, as she kissed Josephine's neck, hearing a small sigh escape her lips. They had to be quiet, though. Surely the others would not want to know about this. Much less _hear_ it.

     It was so strange. To actually be wrapped up in the arms of the person she'd been _constantly_ thinking about. It was different than her dreams though. In her dreams there was...no feeling. Just mindless imaginings of skin and sweat and sex, and this was none of that. Josephine traced a line from Sera's chin, down her neck to her chest, gently tugging at the fabric of her tunic, then lightly running her fingers across a breast underneath, curious, trembling a little. Sera kissed away the nervousness.

     Bloody corsets. Why anyone would want to wear one, she had no idea. The damned things took hours, it seemed, to remove. But Sera wanted to feel the flesh underneath it. Would be easy to grab the dagger nearby and cut lose the lacing in the front but...no, Josephine would probably kill her. Complain about how long it took her to get it...how much it cost. So she fumbled with the lacing with her fingers instead, as Josephine practically _tortured_ her with that tender kiss of hers. Pressed into her...Honestly, did she have _any_ idea what she was doing to her? How she was... _driving her mad?_

     The knot was undone and the laces loosened, she pried them apart to feel thin silk fabric underneath. Under that, even softer skin. If that were even _possible_. She managed to get the blasted corset all the way off, and peel the silk from Josephine's shoulder, kissing it along the way. It was...intoxicating. The smell of wild flower perfume...the room getting hot all around. Her fingers inching down to the lower end of the slip, slowly reaching for the hottest part, pulling up the hem of the skirt...then inching up her leg. Josephine was frozen still, captivated by the touch, her breath quickening...only one layer left, a bit of lace, to pull down, and...

     "Miss Sera!" Josephine gasped. Though her voice still a whisper, one of surprise. Borderline shock. Sera pulled away.

     "No no, wait." Josephine whispered. "I..."

     "Do you want me to stop?" Sera whispered in her ear.

     "No...Don't stop." she whispered back. Sera hummed at the sound of those words. _Don't stop_. Her pulse raced at them, making her press Josephine down on her back, nuzzle into her neck, feel the speed of Josephine's heart beating, as she rose up into her...Oh yes, fun indeed...She could do this for hours...wanted nothing else...

     She slipped her hand back down, pushing Josephine's leg to the side, to move the fabric out of the way once more. She felt Josephine inhale as she touched, feeling the warmth...the wetness...a little flutter of enjoyment. She _wanted_ Sera...badly. Her chin tilted upward just a bit, just enough to make Sera want to kiss her throat as she groped, grazing her finger over the lovely little area that throbbed. Josephine moved her head back down, catching her in another kiss.

     "Cullen!" they heard Serana moan a little too loudly from the tent nearby, making both of them stop, almost sitting up. 

     " _Must you two really_?!" Lady Vivienne spat from the tent on the other side.

     "Sorry!" Serana said back to her, as Vivienne let out an exaggerated groan.

     "For the love of..." she growled.

     Sera turned back to Josephine, who was actually covering her mouth, hiding a grin. Both had to fight laughing at the interruption. Guess they weren't the only ones feeling 'romantic' at that hour, were they? Was it bad that Sera still wanted to continue?...She and Josephine tried to control their snickering for a moment, until Josephine made Sera stop laughing altogether by putting a hand up to her face, gently nudging her chin towards her.

     "Maybe we should be more... _discreet_ than those two." she whispered huskily.

     Good...their night wasn't over yet. Sera couldn't help but grin at that thought.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?...It's a Sera chapter, I couldn't make it _too_ serious now could I?


	43. More Secrets From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to High Hrothgar takes an unexpected turn, and more sands of the past sift through...

     "Now I'm absolutely _sure_ you're not really a dragon." Hawke said, aggravated over stumbling through brush and sticks for the last half hour, as they were off the beaten path, taking the shortest way from the Rift eastward to High Hrothgar. Mira wasn't quite ready to reveal the 'return of the Dragonborn' just yet. Not until she was certain she knew the entirety of the situation back home, and knew what was going on in Thedas. She was suddenly more grateful to still be wearing her Guild armor at that thought, blackened hood pulled over her head.

     "You want to know how I know? I'll tell you how I know. Because if you _were_ , you would've sprouted wings and we'd be flying to wherever this High Hrothgar is." Hawke slapped a branch out of his way as he spoke.

     It came back and smacked him in the face.

     "It's at the tallest peak in Skyrim, I'm afraid." stated Mira, as she led the way for them. "It's called the Throat of the World. But it's not that much further. Only a day's walk. Then...it's the climb."

     "And we're going there...to speak to a dragon?" Cassandra asked beside her, raising a brow. "I thought he was joking." she gestured with a nod to Fox, who flanked them in pace, keeping his distance. He said nothing. Perhaps because he knew that Mira needed her space. Needed time, perhaps, to process the night before.

     "I still don't understand why Brynjolf isn't coming with us, Mira." Cassandra said, a little quieter, as if the subject was a delicate one.

     "He's afraid." Mira said to her, quietly stepping over the branches that Hawke would most likely trip on. How that man had managed to get this far in life, she hadn't a clue.

     "Afraid? Of what?" Cassandra raised a brow.

     "Of a great many things, I'm sure." Mira said with a half hearted smile. "He'll figure it out for himself. He's not a child...and he's back where he wants to be." she said the last part with a little disdain.

     "Mira..." she turned to see Cassandra's face one of concern. "I know the two of you have...history...and there are feelings there. Anyone at Skyhold could see that. He never left your side the entirety of his stay in Thedas...why do you think he would leave you now?"

     The way she asked that question, it seemed she really didn't expect an explanation, only that Mira should consider her words, and the truth in them. She sighed.

     "We should stop to rest." Fox said from behind them. Mira nodded in agreement.

     "In the middle of the day? Odd." said Hawke, wrinkling a brow.

     "Trust me, you don't want to fall asleep in the woods at night, here in Skyrim." said Mira, before stopping at the nearest tree and slumping against it, laying the black ornate bow next to her, and rubbing her left hand where the Anchor throbbed once more. The others sat reluctantly nearby.

     "We have no tents, no blankets, no... _anything_." Hawke mumbled. "This is positively medieval." he stressed. "How can Freja stand living here?" Been talking to the shaman of the Skaal, had he? She figured he took a liking to her.

     "She lives much farther north, mage." Mira commented. "But the Skaal have a longhouse. They don't sleep in the dirt like dogs." she chuckled. He huffed.

     "Well, if it's anything like yours..." he cleared his throat. "I mean, your house is lovely, dragon. Just lovely."

     "What? Did you think I'd live in a castle?" she laughed. "I'm a dragon slayer, not a queen."

     "But plenty of other things..." she heard Cassandra mumble under her breath. 

     "I may be the Inquisitor of Thedas, and lay my head to rest in Skyhold castle, Hawke, but here?..." Mira sighed.

     "Here she is the Harbinger of Companions...a skilled mage and confidante of the famed Psijiic Order of Artaeum...a vampire hunter, of the Dawnguard Order, keeper of Auriel's bow. The bow of legend that wields the very power of the sun itself...She is a Thane, right hand of the Jarl, and soon, right hand of the King. A soldier who brought freedom to oppressed peoples, though one who struggles over which of those she belongs to, I imagine...She is the keeper of the Elder Scrolls themselves, artifacts of great power and knowledge...Such a powerful being, why, she even defeated another who was Dragonborn before...caught in the ebb and flow of time, imprisoned in another realm and tainted servant to one who is no demon...but far worse...a Prince of Demons...a Daedra...and...she is a...little girl who was raised by Khajiit in Cyrodil, who returned to her homeland to learn her purpose, her destiny, as the Last Dragonborn...said to have the body of a mortal, but the spirit of an immortal dragon...she is a hero. But she is one who would much rather live in a wooden shack, than rule over a nation."

     Fox, who had so softly and eloquently catalogued Mira's life, stopped speaking, and Cassandra and Hawke could only stare at him in wonder at all the things Mira had done. She briefly wondered if they even understood all of it. Fox inhaled and spoke once more, staring up at the sky.

     "She is many other things as well, rishajiit." he said to Hawke. "She's fought bandits, bears, sabrecats, and frost trolls. Delved deep into ancient dwarven ruins, unlocked secrets buried there, banished daedra, and even resisted the calling of the most powerful, corrupt, Mehrunes Dagon he is called. Travelled to the Soul Cairn, a land full of lost souls, where the dead forever haunt, those who were trapped, corrupted, their very souls used to fuel many horrific deeds, I'm sure. She's travelled to Sovengarde, the realm of Atherius where the spirits of heroes before her sit and drink mead, fight and sing, while the smells of roasted boar waft through the great hall...Tell me, mage? If she has done so many brave and wondrous things, things not possible to accomplish by just any mortal being...do you know why she chooses to lay her head in a simple shack?"

     Hawke said nothing, though he leaned his head in interest, and Mira found herself doing the same, fascinated by how much Fox knew about her.

     "Because that is where she feels like she is home." he purred at the word, a smile appearing on his lips. "In this castle called Skyhold, you have a soft bed, but you still sleep on the floor, don't you, little sister?" Fox chuckled.

     "Home is where I want to be right now." said Cassandra, her voice sullen, clearly homesick. 

     "Rest and dream of home then, warrior." Fox said softly. "The Dragonborn and I will keep an eye out for trouble."

     At his suggestion, both Cassandra and Hawke nodded, and slumped back against the log behind them, to doze off, upon which, Mira slowly moved to sit closer to Fox, to converse quietly with him.

     "On a couch, actually." she whispered. "Not the floor. It's made of stone. Otherwise I probably would." she chuckled a little, and so did Fox. "You followed me, didn't you? When I left Cyrodil?"

     "You still don't remember? What happened before you left?" he asked, and she shook her head. It made him sigh. "Then it is difficult to answer. Until you remember everything, alaran, I cannot make you understand."

     "You know everything I have done throughout Skyrim, know of all my heroic deeds." she stated, wrinkling her brow, trying to ignore the knot forming in her stomach, the discomfort spreading throughout her body like a plague.

     "So...the Nightingale. You love him?" he asked, completely ignoring her words.

     "I do." she answered. "But...I'm afraid that how we feel for one another is not enough. Things...happened. Terrible things...and he thinks I betrayed him, thinks I lied to him, when I told him the truth. Whatever is going on in his head...He needs to sort it out. Otherwise, there is no future for us."

     "Mmm, maybe it is more than that. You are the Dragonborn. That is what he sees. He knows much of you, yes, but he does not see who you were before...the little girl that Kha'tri and I fought over, day in and day out." he purred.

     "Fought over?" Mira raised a brow. Fox nodded. "Because he wanted me to be like the Nords from Skyrim. Warriors who let loose their battlecries and carry swords and shields into battle...but that wasn't what you wanted, was it? And when I...forgot you, I forgot all of that."

     "And you forgot all of the things you are capable of, alaran." Fox slumped back further, nestling into the tree. "But you will remember."

     "But I became the warrior Kha'tri said I would...does this disappoint you?" she asked him, hoping to glean some insight.

     "No." he said. "Though you have yet to see how the past will affect the future to come. Yet to know how the winds have changed."

     Mira pondered Fox's words, but whatever she had planned to say, or do, whatever would've come to mind...would have to wait.

     She heard a familiar sound in the distance, and jumped up from her spot on the ground to scan the area of which the sound came from. Then it happened. The Anchor sparked, something it had not done since she arrived in Skyrim. It did now, and in tune with it's unnatural song, so a small flash of green light could be seen in the distance, beyond the tree line, to the south. The Anchor seared with pain, the pain resonating in odd harmony with the flow of light some fifty yards away.

     There were rifts in Skyrim. Talos help them all. Mira cursed under her breath as she woke the others. They were shocked at first but...oddly relieved to find something familiar to deal with. Demons from the Fade. 

     "Are you sure about this, little sister?" Fox asked as they approached the rift, and flanked the demons that spilled out of it.

     "The Anchor _will_ close it, but we need to deal with the demons first." Cassandra called to him. Hawke wrenched his staff from his back, though still unable to use magic with it, he smacked the demon that approached, and speared it with the bladed tip. Mira summoned fire breath to deal with the one closest to her, as Cassandra hacked with her sword and bashed with her shield. Instinctually Mira reached for her own sword, but...no, she carried the Nightingale bow. She stared at it for a moment, transfixed by the thought of using it. It had been so long...wisps of memory flowed through her mind.

* * *

     "Now this...this is much lighter than a sword." said M'Shan to his little sister, as he handed her a simple hunting bow. She took it in her small hand, feeling the weight of it, and yes, it was much lighter than a sword. M'Shan handed her an arrow.

     "Hold your arm straight, one finger over, two under, and pull."

     "That's it?" she asked at his words.

     "That's it." he grinned. "Pull up to your cheek, exhale, and the arrow will go where it needs to be."

     She did as instructed, making sure the arrow was knocked properly into place, the fletching feathering outward in the right way, and straightened her stance. In one swift movement she inhaled as she drew back, all the way to her cheek, as instructed, and aimed for the target, a tree stump, some odd feet away. She didn't know the distance. But on it, a spot of red was painted, indicating what she should aim for. She released, breathing out, and as if she saw it in slow motion, she watched as the arrow made a 'thwack', hitting the red spot on the tree.

     "See? This one knows things. You are an archer, M'ira." said M'Shan, and she looked over to see him smiling.

     "I imagined the tree was Grelod the Kind." she said with a frown.

     "Who?" M'Shan asked.

     "...No one. Just a person. A bad person, that's all." she replied. "So...you really think I'm good with a bow?" M'Shan nodded. "Kha'tri will be very mad when he finds out I skipped my sword lesson. You're supposed to be helping me with that."

     "Yes, but didn't Kha'tri say, 'the winds always change current'?" he asked as he walked over, picking her up, and placing the bow over his shoulder. "The winds are changing Mira, but that doesn't mean you can't push through them."

     "What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the side.

     "Mmm...this means..." he said slowly, "...that you can fight with a sword all day...and you can shoot the bow at night, when Kha'tri isn't looking...You will be a warrior one day still...but you can choose your own way of fighting, of doing anything, alaran."

* * *

     "Mira?" she heard Cassandra call to her. She snapped out of her distraction to see a demon in front of her, and she barely dodged it's swipe. She tumbled across the ground, rolling out of the way.

     "Use the bow!" Fox shouted at her as he loosed a few arrows from his own, one right after the other, and upon the last, he grabbed the crossbow at his hip, pulled it back and fired. They were being backed into a corner. Overwhelmed without Hawke's magic, or Mira engaging in the fight, she glanced down at the bow.

     "M'ira!" Fox snapped. "Use the fucking bow!" he scathed angrily, aiming for the face of a demon with his crossbow as it pounced on him. In a flash of black smoke, he disappeared, then reappeared moments later nearby, behind the demon, and fired a bolt into the back of it's head. "M'ira Khatani I swear to..."

     "I _can't_!" she spat, tossing the bow to the ground, choosing instead to ignite flame with Magika and blast fire at the demons. She could only do so much, only so much skill with magic, but it was enough to sear flesh, causing the creatures to scream as they dispelled, back into the rift.

     She surged forward with the Anchor, watching as the rift closed in on itself, just like in Thedas, though at that particular time, she was overwhelmed by it. The pain ripped through her, as it had the first time she attempted to close the Breach herself. Perhaps because the magic had spread so far, it was tearing her apart to use it. She collapsed in agony, writhing, clutching her hand.

     Both Cassandra and Hawke rushed over, but could do nothing for her. Only when Fox, who appeared leaving a trail of black smoke behind him, grabbed her arm applied healing magic to it, did the pain dissipate. The spell encircled her hand with a familiar golden glow, a sound of chimes, and Mira let out a sigh of relief, followed shortly by Fox hauling her roughly to her feet.

     He hissed in her face. "I told you that mess could kill you." he grumbled. "Now...why didn't you use the bow?!"

     "Leave her alone!" Cassandra scathed, brandishing her blade. Fox glared at her.

     "Stay out of this!" he spat at her, then he turned back to Mira. "It would have been over within seconds if you had!" he snapped.

     "Cassandra..." Hawke warned, but Cassandra surged forward anyway, aiming to snatch up Fox, underestimating his skill. He disappeared again, and reappeared behind her, grabbing her by the back of her vest, and flinging her aside.

     "Fox!" Mira gasped, in shock, and instinctively she pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew back her bow, aiming for his chest, ignoring the way her arm shook. "Do _not_ do that again!" she spat. "I _will_ drop you, brother!" 

     Fox froze, a look of slight shock, mixed with interest, forming in his features.

     "Mira, you don't have to do this." Hawke said from beside her. "I...honestly have no idea what is going on but...Look, the dark elf told us about what happened...you _don't_ have to do it...you _don't_ have to listen to him." Hawke tried to sooth with his words, hands up in a surrendering gesture. Mira was more interested in what Karliah supposedly told them.

     "Karliah told you what, exactly?" she asked him, not taking her gaze, nor her aim, from Fox.

     "That you killed her." Cassandra said from the ground, nursing her shoulder. "The woman who gave you the scar."

     Ignoring the black arrow pointed at his face, Fox darted forward, making Mira jump back a little.

     "You did _what_?!" he raged. Interesting. She lowered the bow.

     "For one who knows much of me...this one knows so little." she choked. Then she turned to Cassandra. "So you know, then? Of the crime I committed?"

     "Karliah told us everything." Cassandra said staring at the ground. "But...it doesn't make you a criminal, Mira. You weren't _born_ a hero, but you _earned_ the right to be called one." she still stared at the ground, and Mira wondered the meaning of her words, until she heard Fox hiss once more.

     "This cannot be. It can't be you...it shouldn't be you." he muttered, then turned away to pace in confusion, though Mira couldn't figure out why.

     "So here we are. All out in the open then...A rebel mage, the right hand of the Divine, a disappearing cat...and a Dragonborn Inquisitor that committed murder." Hawke lazily drolled out. "In the middle of the woods of a place called Skyrim, where demons are that shouldn't be." he folded his arms. "Anymore surprises?"

     Cassandra stood up, and brushed herself off, as Fox whipped around and walked past her, right up to Mira, to stare at her, almost nose to nose with her.

     "Rahjin's shadow..." he growled as he cursed. "You and I must talk. Alone. Now." he scathed.

     "Good, you'll give me answers then!" she hissed back at him, then she glanced at Cassandra and Hawke. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere."

     Mira and Fox disappeared from view, and Mira, honestly, wanted to beat him senseless. She took a deep breath.  
   
   
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (heads up, it gets totally nuts, and even more non-canon in the next chapter...Elder Scrolls lore junkies beware...)


	44. The Final Puzzle Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox's identity is revealed and the plot slightly thickens...

     Cassandra knew better that to leave Mira completely alone with that... _whatever_ he was. Especially after everything that happened. And...she was curious. So she and Hawke eavesdropped on the conversation between Mira and Fox...

* * *

     Fox paced back and forth still, disturbed by the fact that Mira had murdered a woman, ironically named Grelod the Kind, for as rumor had it, she was  _anything_ but kind. The large black cat flicked his ears back, bearing fangs, almost growling in his irritation.

     "If I tell you, alaran, you will never remember. Our past, our...history together. It will never come back to you...any of it." he scathed as he paced, pale eyes flitting about, eyeing the ground, waiting for her to change her mind, it seemed.

     "I need answers, M'Shan." she stated, as she stood with hands on her hips, watching him pace. "Dammit, brother, _tell me_!"

     "You _weren't_ supposed to kill her, M'ira!" he spat, still pacing. Then he groaned. "You do not know what you put in motion when you did." his gaze saddened.

     "What do you mean?" Mira asked him, her face contorted in confusion. " _Please...tell me_."

     "Where to begin...When there is so much to tell?...You left Cyrodiil because of me, alaran. Because... _I left_. I found those who murdered Kha'tri and Khara, little sister. I found the Brotherhood before you did." When the words left his mouth, Mira's expression changed. Her eyes widened. She walked over to him.

     "Tell me what happened." she said, no longer angry. Fox sighed.

     "I tracked them to Skyrim, and...I knew that I could not kill them all, so...I joined them." he said, and Mira started to speak, but he hushed her. "Do not ask what you are about to ask. I will not tell you what I did to join them...Only that...I found them because I stole something. Something very valuable. I knew of an artifact that could render me untraceable, even to ones such as themselves. The mantle of the Grey Fox."

     Mira scoffed. "That explains why you call yourself Fox." she said. She wrinkled her brow in thought of what she was being told, folding her arms, almost hugging herself in discomfort.

     "Mmm, yes. My reminder that I caused all this. I searched for it, for quite some time, to be sure." he raised a brow. "The thieves in the White Gold city knew it was buried with the Hero of Kvatch but...they knew not where he had been buried. Two hundred years is a long time, little sister, but...I found it." he sighed. "An unmarked grave, and in it, the last Grey Fox's cowl, and I put it on. Such a foolish thing to do."

     "A thief stealing from another thief." Mira mumbled.

     "Yes, alaran. It had been cursed many years ago, that whoever should wear it would become nameless, faceless, nothing more than a stranger to anyone who knew them. Erased from existence, never to be remembered. It had been stolen from the Mistress of Shadows, though when given back to the rightful owner, the curse removed. Nocturnal shamed me for stealing it, and cursed it once more...and..."

     "I forgot you when you put it on." Mira swallowed, staring at the ground.

     "I am sorry you forgot me. Nocturnal knew me as one of her servants, and granted me a favor. That when I returned the cowl, I could be remembered, but you had to remember me for yourself. If I told you who I was, you would not. That was the price I paid...the price you paid."

     "So what did you do?" Mira asked him, looking up, aiming to hear the rest of the story, whether she truly wanted to or not.

     "I found the Dark Brotherhood, and entered their...'family'. I learned everything I could from them, more so than I could have ever learned myself, or from any thief in Tamriel. Every skill sharpened like a blade. Every power that they possessed, this one possessed in turn...and only then was a I ready to destroy them. But...it was only then that I realized...I was one of them."

     Mira leaned her head to the side, her expression one of confusion. 

     "No, I did not change my mind, little sister. I still aimed to kill the one responsible for Kha'tri and Khara's blood shed, the leader of the cult. The one called Astrid. But someone had stolen that from me. Astrid told me of a contract that had been stolen from us. A little boy named Aventus Arentino in Windhelm enacted the Black Sacrament, calling to the Brotherhood to kill Grelod the Kind for him. Someone learned of this, and came to him, and he assumed it was one of us, but it wasn't. Someone else got to her first. Astrid made them an offer they refused, and when she died, I lost my chance to strangle that murderous milk-drinking whore myself."

     Fox paced once more, seeming to search for words.

     "I swore to kill them instead." he said, fighting back tears. "The Black Sacrament was enacted once more...and the Brotherhood calls for _your_ head." he choked.

     Mira stepped back. She could take him...couldn't she? If he tried anything? It seemed clear he had just informed her he was sworn to kill her...Mira's adopted brother...An assassin?...Maker only knew the awful things he had done...But this was Mira's only family...

     "There is so much more, little sister." he said between ragged breaths. "A man named Amonde Montierre contracted us to murder the Emperor. When Ulfric and Elisif conduct the moot to name the new High King or Queen, the Brotherhood will take Titus' life, and make it look like Ulfric did it. To start another war. This time with the Thalmor waiting...to take Skyrim, and then, eventually, all of Tamriel..." Fox's tail flicked ever so nervously, his breath ragged, but there was more, wasn't there? More to reveal...the last piece of this twisted puzzle.

     "There was one who could stop the plan, and the Thalmor knew this. The one called Dragonborn...who had been missing from Tamriel. The one who was destined to defeat Alduin himself...When I learned it was you...I went back to Cyrodiil...I returned the cowl I had held for so long, and I learned of the demons plaguing the land. Nocturnal took my hand once more. Told me that her Nightingales searched for you. I followed them, and learned so much of what you had done, for all of Skyrim, learned of the hero you had become...You forgot what I taught you, and remembered only Kha'tri's teaching, alaran. And it made the dragon within you mighty. I thought it made you forget how much you wanted to kill her...thought that surely you were not the one that did it...I had _hoped_." Fox's voice broke in his emotion.

     "M'Shan..."Mira whispered softly. "I wanted to take that woman's life _long before_ I met you...forgetting _you_ did not make me forget _that_." she sighed, and stepped closer, wanting to console him. "Maybe if I had remembered...I wouldn't have. But it is too late now. It's in the past. Sand that has already blown away in the wind."

     She hugged him.

     "You must kill me." he whispered. "You must kill me...or I must kill you."

     "No." Mira said to him. "Did you not say we could fight the wind? Go whichever direction we chose?...Why do you think we can't now? Why has that changed?"

     Fox let out a sigh, and hugged Mira tighter. Cassandra and Hawke, who hid behind trees nearby, both held their breath in anticipation. Would they try to kill one another, or not? Mira lifted her head onto Fox's shoulder, hugging him tighter as well, closing her eyes, perhaps bracing herself for the inevitable before drawing away.

     No. Not bracing herself to fight, bracing herself to 'Thoom'. She slid one foot behind her, just as Cassandra had seen her do plenty of times, and sucked in a breath.

     "Iiz..Slen...Nus!" she shouted at Fox, and before he could react, his body froze into a block of ice, completely immobilizing him in place, like a statue.

     "What did you _do_ to him?" Hawke gasped as he clambered out of the bushes, completely forgetting that they weren't supposed to be there, and in utter shock at Mira freezing the cat with her voice.

     "We don't have much time. It won't last forever." Mira said to them, not phased by them popping out at her. "We won't make it to High Hrothgar."

     "Did you know we were there?" Cassandra asked her, as she watched her pry the weapons from Fox's frozen body.

     "No, but it doesn't surprise me that you would be, shield maiden." she replied. 

     "So what do you plan to do?" Hawke asked.

     "Get us to Thedas, of course." she said. "There is a man there that needs returned to his homeland to be named High King, and _he's_ coming with us." she gestured to Fox. "If he's there, he can't kill the Emperor, and stop Ulfric from negotiating a peace treaty. Hold these." she handed Cassandra and Hawke Fox's arsenal. "He's going to be _pissed_ when he can move again...Oh..Dah...Viing!!" she shouted at the sky, putting up a hand to block out the sun, searching for something?

     There was a roar in the distance...Maker's breath...she called a dragon. Cassandra's heart raced. They couldn't get to a dragon, so she called a dragon to them. A magnificent red and golden beast that appeared in the sky, as if by magic, that landed some feet away, making the ground tremble. Every instinct in Cassandra's body said to draw her sword until she heard Mira speak.

     "Drem yol lok, Odahviing." Mira smirked at the large creature.

     "Greetings, Dovahkiin. You have returned, I see." his gravelly voice almost hummed a bit as he spoke, resonating outward.

     "Yes, and now I have to leave again." she said, a little regret in her voice. "Do you, perhaps, know anything about Shouts that can teleport?"

     "Teleport? Hmm, you ask interesting questions." he chuckled, his very voice making the ground shake. "Where do you need to go?"

     Mira stepped forward, and smiled that big rakish smile of hers that Cassandra had always wondered about, but was now certain that it meant she was up to no good.

     "Wherever I need to be." she gleamed.

* * *

     The Commander and the Diplomat had returned to Skyhold, the Spymaster and the dark elf left for the Valley of Sacred Ashes, to speculate upon the new discovery of Magika in Thedas, and, mostly, all was quiet about the keep. Sort of. Lady Vivienne had carefully dispatched couriers to retrieve items needed to fashion some sensible clothing for the upcoming gala in Hilamshiral, and that was directly how she put it, so party planning seemed to suffice as the needed distraction from current things. Like a Dragonborn who committed a disappearing act on them.

     Dorian Pavus and the notorious Iron Bull left for Redcliffe, embarking on some needed errand, and the Huntress and Warden Blackwall finally made their way back to Skyhold from the Western Approach, both of which seemed completely convinced Mira had somehow trapped herself and the others in the Fade, based on the 'green light' reported seen just before they 'feel to their doom', as some put it. All very unclear information. Was Mira in Skyrim, as some assumed? Or was she in the Fade, where she was either dead, or worse?

     Regardless of where she was, there were Wardens about the keep, who, albeit possibly only temporarily, were free of Magister Erimond's control, and Erimond himself had been imprisoned in the keep's dungeon until further notice. Even without being in their presence, Mira accomplished so much, because, as Cullen had noted, it was the thought of what Mira would do in the situation that drove him to spare the Wardens and offer them an alliance. Mira had done a similar thing with Enchantress Fiona and her followers, granting them sanctuary within Inquisition ranks when King Alastair left the decision up to her, before she became Inquisitor.

     Her mercy, and heroic deeds, were what made her Inquisitor, and what made her legacy thrive even after she disappeared. Cullen refused to let anyone think she abandoned them, or died on them. He was one of the few who refused to let it go entirely. It was commendable of him.

     So it came as quite the surprise to some, and complete and utter shock to others when the earth itself seemed to move, crumbling, quaking beneath them. A shockwave, felt throughout the keep, by everyone. An earthquake, signaling what some would probably describe as sheer luck, and others would describe as divine intervention. But regardless of what it was, Solas could only stare in wonder as a familiar face burst through the main hall from the War Room, in tattered armor, short, black hair, covered in dirt and sweat, cracking the widest smile.

     "Oh thank the Maker! We're _home_!" shouted Cassandra Pentaghast, crying tears of joy. Could it be?...One could wonder...Could it really be that the 'dragon' had returned?


	45. The Dragon Has Returned

     The crackle of thunder could be heard before the drop, then searing pain as Mira and the others hit the floor. Wherever they landed, it was odd, wooden beams protruding. Mira landed face down on this floor, groaning as she sat up to look around at where they were. She saw a chandelier to the right of her...coming from the floor?

     Before she had time to fully react to this conundrum, she heard a chorus of yelps as she and those with her fell backward again, to land on the floor, the real floor...By the Nine, they'd _landed on the ceiling_...Mira groaned as she sat up and looked around. Cassandra did the same, immediately noticing the large table in the center of the room, and the large map that lay on it.

     "This is the War Room!" she gasped. "This is Skyhold! Mira...We're back!" she dashed out of the room. They were back...at Skyhold? And not at Adamant? Had some lengthy amount of time passed here in Thedas as well? Had it really been the Fade that made it seem like so little time had passed?

     Hawke slowly pried himself from the floor, in a daze it seemed.

     "What exactly was that dragon's spell supposed to do?" he asked, his voice strained from the harsh landing.

     "It was _supposed_ to take us wherever we needed to be." Mira replied.

     "Well, did we really need to be on the _ceiling_?" Hawke retorted, but Mira was more focused on the unconscious figure laying next to her, between them. Fox, still asleep from the effects of the Shout placed on him, though no longer frozen in ice. Laying on his side, his weathered black cloak draped away from his cuirass. Plain as day she could see it. How could she be so stupid not to notice before? She ran a hand along his arm, seeing the darkened crimson of his gauntlets, laden with dark colored studding at the seams. And on his chest, the handprint. The sigil of Sithis. The Dark Brotherhood armor.

     She could blame it on the fact that it was hidden under a cloak, but...No, that was no excuse. The blame was her own. She had been too distracted. Too focused on everything else at hand, the feelings she felt, the memories she had tried so desperately to remember. There was a lump in her throat.

     "So...your 'brother'..." Hawke began tentatively, also staring down at the large black cat. "He's an...assassin."

     Mira nodded. "We need to get him out of here. To the dungeon, before he wakes up on us." Hawke nodded, and moved to help her get him up off the floor. There was a side door that led to the lower levels, one no one ever used, really, but it was needed now, for Mira wasn't entirely sure how the others would react to what she had brought back with them. A Khajiit, a creature they had never seen before. One who was a murderer. A cold blooded killer was what her big brother had become.  
 

     "Might I ask something, 'dragon'?" Hawke grunted as they carried him downstairs. "Why did he save your life? Why did he go through... _all_ of this, if he were sworn to kill you anyway?"

     They laid him down in the closest cell, and Mira sighed, absentmindedly running a hand across Fox's chest, across the symbol on it.

     "He wanted me to remember him." she replied softly. "He...wanted me to remember how much...he loved me, I think."

     She heard Hawke let out a sigh behind her. Not one of confusion, or judgment, but perhaps one of understanding. Mira stood up to face the mage, revealing her discomfort to him.

     "Let's get back upstairs and see what has happened while we were away." she stated evenly, not wanting to continue the conversation further. She took one last look at Fox as she closed and latched the cell door, then sighed as she left the room entirely.

* * *

     At the sound of Cassandra Pentaghast almost screaming at the top of her lungs with excitement, many curious faces appeared in the main hall to confirm that she indeed yet lived. Mira's friend Vilkas wasted no time in swooping her up into a hug, not particularly caring what anyone thought of that gesture, though when he finished squeezing the Seeker half to death and set her down, Solas could see the hint of flush on her cheeks from embarrassment.

     It was not imagined. Cassandra confirmed she was alive, in the flesh, and so were the others. Including the one called Dragonborn, much to everyone's relief. She appeared moments later from below the main part of the keep with Garret Hawke in tow.

     "So the dragon has returned." Solas said warmly to her, producing a smile from her.

     "Yes, elf. The dragon yet lives." she said to him, beaming for a moment with joy, though it was short lived. Something clearly disturbed her.

     She wasn't wearing the famed 'armor of her ancestors', as she had called it. Instead, a black cuirass with a hood, and clutching an interesting assortment of weapons. Her eyes no longer sparkled as they did before, but now were heavily laden with worry, discontent. Fear, perhaps. Her face reverted back to its frown. She turned to look at everyone gathered in the hall, mesmerized by her return, some completely shocked by it, assuming she had been dead all this time.

     "Where is Ulfric?" she demanded. The crowd parted behind her, and the tall blonde covered in dark fur stepped toward her.

     "I'm here. And you live." he said, almost undeterred by this instance. But there was a small smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. She reached out, clasped his hand and shook it.

     "Prepare yourself, Jarl." she said to him. "We leave tomorrow."

     There was yet a chorus of curious looks.

     "Where are Karliah and Brynjolf?" Serana asked from beside her, folding her arms.

     "They...are home." Mira said to her, making the brunette raise her brows. "We found our way back to Skyrim, my friend. And I believe I have the answer to getting all of you home."

     "How did you get there?" Solas couldn't help but ask, assuming there was much more to this, much that he wanted to hear. "There were rumors that you opened a rift, and were, perhaps, trapped in the Fade."

     "We were." she confirmed. "We managed to escape, but..." her gaze saddened. "Stroud stayed behind so that we could get to safety. He's...dead, I'm afraid. We went back through the rift, but it didn't take us back to Adamant. It lead to Skyrim...What happened to the Wardens?"

     "They are here, Inquisitor." Cullen said to her. "Most of them surrendered to us, and accepted the alliance offered."

     "Good." she nodded, approving of Cullen's decision.

     Before another word could be said, a small figure entered the large hall.

     "Well, I'll be damned." said Varric to Hawke. "You're alive."

     "I'm hard to kill, remember?" Hawke joked as he clasped Varric's hand. The dwarf looked like he might cry.

     "Yeah and I owe that guy money." Varric gestured to Vilkas. "Thanks for that." it made Hawke chuckle.

     An interesting turn of events. The Dragonborn Herald of Andraste not dead? And found a way to get her people home?...And Karliah...she didn't return. The thought of that slightly saddened Solas. He had hoped, a small part of him did, that she would return and...perhaps want to stay. But she had been right. Turned out, she wasn't meant to be there, otherwise she would be, he guessed.

     He pushed the thought aside.

     Mira looked tired, and clutched her arm. Under her brace, Solas could see the dark marks on her skin. Ill effects of the Anchor. Solas advised the others that it would be good to allow Mira a moment's rest, and allow him to tend to it. She followed him into his study, and took a seat at the desk, stretching her arm across it when he asked, so that he could see the damage done. He gently unlaced and removed the bracer from her arm, tugging the sleeve up slightly to see blackened veins, as if poisoned.

     "Well, it worked." she mumbled. "The Anchor managed to get us to Skyrim."

     "And nearly killed you, in doing so." he commented, hearing her grunt a little, in pain, as he manipulated the mark with magic. "Luckily for you, an elf occupies Skyhold knowledgeable enough to stabilize it. Though I must admire your strength. The magic has spread alarmingly so. How did you survive this?"

     "Magika." she stated. Interesting. Though it did not remove the Anchor, the element of Magika was able to reverse its physical effects?

     "Don't worry. I'm not using this to get home." she muttered. "I've found another way." she yelped, as he applied the last bit of magic necessary, and her veins resumed normal color once more.

     "There is something you should know, dragon." he stated. "Before you leave. Neloth and Sister Leliana left for the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes this morning. To investigate a discovery there."

     "A rift?" Mira looked up as she withdrew her arm, rubbing it for a moment.

     "No. But something. A source of arcane power, as Neloth puts it. We have yet to know what exactly it is, but its origin is not the Fade, but...Magika."

     Mira wrinkled her brow. "Magika?" Solas nodded.

     "There is Magika in Thedas, according to Neloth. I'm inclined to believe him, if everything thus far is truth. I...watched him use magic." Solas folded his arms.

     "Wait." Mira stood up sharply. "Are you saying Tamrielans can use magic in Thedas?!"

     Again, Solas nodded, though utterly confused as to why she was grabbing her bracer and darting out of the room.

     "What troubles you, dragon?" he called after her.

     "I've no time to explain!" she replied, and left the room.

     Growing too curious, Solas followed after, as she darted down the stairs breaking off from the study. Silently he followed, his curiosity growing further as she reached the end of the service rooms of the keep, where the dungeon waited on the other side. She burst through the door, quickening her pace, almost running through the dark and damp hall to the other end, then stopped. To gape at the open cell door in front of her.

     "Fuck!" she whaled as she kicked the metal bars with a black boot, broiling in anger.

     "Quite the mouth on you, dragon." Solas said behind her. "What exactly is going on?"

     She whipped around to face him, a look of worry forming in her features.

     "Alert the guards." she started breathing heavy, panting more like, from anxiety. "Myself, Cassandra, and Hawke weren't the only ones who came back from Skyrim." she stated with urgency. "Someone else did as well. He...isn't human, Solas, and very dangerous if he can use magic here."

     "Who is he?" he asked, watching as she turned to walk back out of the dungeon.

     "My brother." was all she said.  
 


	46. Wandering Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mira has returned, with a way to travel between the realms, but also with complications, as Fox has escaped...

     The guards had been alerted to search the hold for a cloaked figure, and warned of his level of skill, how dangerous he was, Aela putting her tracking skills to use and leading the search, but...Mira feared it would do little good. She was certain Fox was nowhere to be found. But she knew he wouldn't go far. She knew what he wanted.

     He wanted her.

     She paced in the War Room, surrounded by her Tamrielan allies, Inquisition allies, and the Inquisition's advisors, minus Leliana and Neloth, who were still in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, Dorian and Bull, whom Cullen said had affairs in Redcliffe to tend to, and Brynjolf and Karliah, of course. She didn't know what to do, and didn't know how to still her heart pounding in her chest, the ringing in her ears.

     "How in the world was he able to get out of that cell?" Cullen asked, running fingers through his hair, trying to wrap his head around what Mira had explained.

     "He is a Master of Illusion. And an expert thief." Mira commented as she paced.

     "Oh he's more than that." said Cassandra. "We watched him disappear and reappear somewhere else, right in front of us in Skyrim." her voice rang with concern. "And..." she cleared her throat. 

     "Invisibility, an expert level Illusion spell." Mira corrected. "But no less dangerous, if what Solas said is to be believed, that there is Magika here, and judging by his escape, I believe it...And he is an assassin." she glanced at Cassandra, knowing full well Cassandra wanted to say that, but didn't feel it appropriate.

     "Great... _more assassins._ " Josephine muttered.

     "Who is his target?" Cullen asked her. Mira huffed.

     "Me." she stated plainly. "And the Emperor of Tamriel. He admitted that he planned to murder the Emperor...and make it look like Ulfric did it." she glanced at the Jarl, who stood nearby. "Which is why I brought him here, until the moot was over and the Emperor returned to the capital."

     "It is true. Hawke and I overheard him confess this." Cassandra added. "He said he was a member of the Dark Brotherhood assassins, contracted to do so." Ulfric raged over the information.

     "I thought you laid waste to their sanctuary, Mira? Wiped them out?" he mucked his face up into a scour.

     "I did!" she snapped. Making people wary by doing so. They rarely saw her bothered like this. She had to admit that lately it was becoming a bad habit. And to see her and the would be High King get angry with one another. Two very tall, intimidating people compared to the elven, dwarven and other human inhabitants of the room.

     "Well, apparently you missed one!" Ulfric scathed. "We need to find this assassin and gut him, Mira!"

     "No!" she spat. "Magic or no magic, if he's here, he can do no harm. He... _will do no harm_. If we leave now, and return you to Skyrim, Ulfric, he cannot stop our plans. He's already beaten and he knows this."

     "How do you know he won't cause trouble?" Ulfric leaned his head in interest, and so in turn the others present also eyed her with interest. But she didn't answer. Cassandra did.

     "He...is her brother." she said, and though her tone was tranquil, her eyes glittered, like a fire that Mira couldn't quite name the purpose of.

     "We weren't aware you had any family." Cullen raised a brow. Then he glanced at Serana who shrugged. So the two of them gossiped about her, then? First Hawke and Freja, now Cullen and Serana. Apparently much happened about the keep that she wasn't aware of...Speaking of Hawke, where by Talos was he? And Freja?

     "How long have we been gone?" Mira asked offhand as she stared at the floor.

     "Weeks." said Ulfric. She sighed.

     "Seems Hawke was right. The Fade made it seem like we were only gone for a short time. We were in Skyrim for only a matter of days." she relented.

     "Are you certain that this spell of yours will take you back to Skyrim, Mira?" Cassandra asked. "And what if it wasn't the Fade? What if you go back and...more time has passed in Skyrim as well?"

     "I have to have a little faith, I suppose." Mira admitted. "There's only one way to find out. And we don't have much time...In the meantime, keep an eye out for a large black cat in a cloak...What?" the Thedosians gaped at her, with the exception of Cassandra.

     "No, she _hasn't_ lost her mind. He really is...a _cat_." she almost rolled her eyes.

     "Khajiit. You see a lot of those outside cities in Skyrim. They're very crafty." Serana took a turn at being stared at, and simply shrugged.

     "Ulfric and I will leave now, and I will return when I can." Mira said, then rolled her eyes at the look Ulfric gave her when she grabbed his hand.

     "Rov-aan Zeim!" she shouted.

    _Wander Beyond_. Interesting words chosen that Odahviing gifted her with the knowledge of. But they took her where she needed to be. No more, no less. And she didn't ask for more. In a flash of light, she and Ulfric disappeared, leaving her allies in a daze, of wonder and amazement.

* * *

     In truth, Mira feared for the safety of her allies, but more so, she worried for Fox. It hurt her to do that to him. To freeze him in ice, then lock him in a cell, and...she was mortified that she couldn't trust him. Her only family, whom she had forgotten, and instead of trust him, to let herself remember, she demanded answers from him, and then locked him away. But she _had to_ , didn't she? To stop him from doing something horrible?

     Part of her wanted to believe he would not kill her, but she knew better. It hurt, to think he was capable of such a thing, but taking him prisoner was her only option. 

     She and Ulfric landed roughly, and when the Jarl managed to get to his feet, he swiped her arm, sending her sideways. It was better than punching her, at least. 

     "You could've warned me you would do that!" he spat.

     "Yes, I suppose I deserved that." she grunted, then Ulfric helped her to her feet, clapping her on the back, then looking around.

     "Where are we, exactly?" he asked. Mira looked around as well.

     "Odd. We're outside Riften. This is the same spot we landed when we came out through the Fade...I think."

     It was daylight still, though it was hard to tell how much time had passed since she left. Had she only been gone a few hours? Or longer? And why Riften? Surely she would've landed in Windhelm, or Solitude maybe. Perhaps even High Hrothgar, somewhere that the moot would soon take place. Why did she need to be in Riften?

     Brynjolf was in Riften. Nightingale Hall was in Riften. And her home was in Riften.

     "Let's head to the stables and get you a horse. Perhaps we can coax the stable boy into telling us what day it is." she groaned, and Ulfric nodded and followed her.

* * *

     At Skyhold, the castle rumbled for a moment longer with an ethereal glory in the midst of the Thu'um used to carry the Dragonborn and the Jarl of Windhelm away. Those that followed Mira still stood there in the War Room, astounded by the magic she possessed. Even those that knew her well. And it seemed there were secrets she had yet kept from all of them.

     "He could be here, right now, watching us, you know." Cullen said after a moment, still scratching his head over the escaped assassin that was somehow Mira's brother.

     "Invisibility spells don't last forever." Serana assured with a smile. "He'll turn up...But what I find interesting is that this is...Mira's brother?" she turned to Cassandra. "She told me her family was dead."

     Cassandra nodded. "Yes it seems those who cared for her are. Murdered by the Dark Brotherhood. This...brother of hers...he mentioned that a spell had been put on her that she would forget him. It's...all rather confusing. I doubt it would be wise to trust anything he said to Mira. Or discuss it further, without Mira present."

     "Good point. Sensitive intel about Mira's personal life?...Well, at least a lot of things she's told me suddenly make sense." Serana shrugged again.

     "What do you mean?" Cassandra asked, and all eyes were on Serana. 

     She sighed. "Didn't we just say we weren't going to talk about her behind her back?" she raised a brow, but yet, everyone gaped expectantly, waiting for any information the woman would hand them of the Inquisitor.

     "Let's just say she and I have more in common than I thought...as in...complicated families. That's all I'm saying...But, there's something else a little more imperative that needs discussed." she stared at the floor for a moment, like a bashful child. One could assume that everyone knew where she was going with the conversation.

     Everyone was quite aware that not all of the Tamrielans wanted to leave Thedas. Especially Serana. The question now at hand was...when Mira returned, who was going to leave, and who was going to fight to stay behind?


	47. Hawk Feathers And A Bear Helmet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Freja fluff!!...and smut. (because who doesn't like that?)

     Hawke found Freja up in the northwestern tower at Skyhold, flinging the door open, the rush of air feeling like the sweetest breeze. The suddenness of the act made Freja whip around sharply, shocked to see someone barging in on her in such a manner.

     "Freja you'll never believe it!" he said quite excitedly. "I was _there_! _In Skyrim_! I mean, it was horrible, true, cold and rather filthy but...It's _real_! All of it! There was a dragon there, even! And, hell, a _talking cat_! It was...Maker...it was real...Why...are you staring at me like that?"

     She had been gaping at him, wide eyed, as if she'd seen a ghost.

     "Garret, I thought you were dead." she said softly. "We...all did." she sucked in a breath, looking as if she would cry.

     Bloody hell, _he'd come back from the dead_. That was true. Why, Varric thought he was dead as well, but...He was a tough little dwarf. Joked and laughed about it, but...This woman was...frightened for him. He felt ashamed.

     "I'm...I'm so sorry." he said abashedly, leaning his head to the side. 

     Her expression was still a mixture of shock, fear, and awe. Slowly she approached, and put a hand up to his cheek. Tentatively touching flesh, as if she were testing it. Checking for herself if he really was real, and not an imagined spirit of sorts. He couldn't help it. After all, she had been on his mind the entire time. Wanting to get back, to her, wanting to tell her of all he had seen...In that moment, he couldn't resist.

     He pulled her close and kissed her.

     Feverishly so. As if it were the last time he'd get to do so, though it was actually the first. He couldn't very well explain but...it felt perfect. Until she pulled away for just a moment.

     "Garret." she whispered, about to protest, when he stopped her with his words.

     "We can regret it later. But for now..."

     He looked into her eyes and couldn't resist kissing her again, nudging her back to the bed behind them, lowering her onto it. She didn't protest to it, not in the slightest. For that moment, whatever thought that either had, seemed to dissipate. He pulled his staff away and dropped in to the floor, the sound of it a small clink as iron and wood hit the stone. His armor was next, easy enough for him to dismantle. How many times had he done so, by himself, why, he could do it blind folded. And there she was, on the bed below him, watching, interested. Entertained by his actions.

     Once free of his armor and tunic, he bent again to kiss her, tasting the sweetness of her tongue, feeling the softness of her lips. Though the mead he drank in Skyrim was so surprisingly sweet...this was beyond that. Felt as if it were meant to happen. He'd never felt anything like it. In all his travels, he'd never met a woman like her. Never would, for she was not of his world. Literally so.

     His lips inched down her neck, as his arms encircled her waist, embracing her tightly. The thin blue garment she wore hugged her body, and he could feel every wonderful curve of it, feel the way her skin seemed to burn...as if on fire. Hot to the touch. He was suddenly grateful she lived in such cold land for...it made her so warm to hold. He began to undo the laces of her dress, feeling her arch her back so that he could reach better, pressing against him, and he could feel her heart race. No better feeling.

     She let him pull the dress down, and away, come back to wrap his arms around her once more, tangle his hand in her streaks of blonde hair, and feel the softness of her skin, like silk against his finger tips. Feel himself shudder as her hands inched up his back, gasping for air. How could a woman have such soft touch? Especially a woman like her?

     She tangled her own hands in his hair then, pressing her lips to his. She let out a gasp as he moved to enter her, grasping her hips, holding her close to him. He didn't want her to escape, and she didn't either, by the way she wrapped her legs around him, seeming to beg for him to move deeper. He did so, as she seemed to ask without words. His heart pounded in his ears...

     ...He didn't know how long it had lasted, didn't want to know, probably. And didn't care if anyone missed him at the moment. He was perfectly happy to lay with her pressed against his side after they had thoroughly ravished one another, laying her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing his neck, making him shiver, when she raised her head to look at him. nuzzle her nose with his. Then lay back down once more, letting out a sigh of contentment.

     He found he couldn't take his eyes off a helmet that set on a stand at the end of the room. Shaped like a bear. Assumingly it belonged to her. Made sense. That in her homeland, she was a fearsome bear of a warrior...and here, a gentle loving maiden laying helpless in his arms. He sighed. The moment couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, they would be missed.

     "The dragon found a way back to your homeland." he mumbled quietly, hoping she had dozed off, and didn't hear him speak. But she did, evident by the way she sighed.

     "Since I arrived in Thedas, I thought little else other than of ways to get back home. I didn't feel like I belonged here." she brushed her fingers across his chest, soothing as she spoke. "The only time I've felt at home here, in my element, I suppose, was fighting along side the soldiers at Adamant Fortress, and...right now. Here, with you."

     He said nothing to that for a moment. It wasn't like she jumped up that instant and tore after Mira, ready to embark on her journey back to Tamriel. But her tone was one of sadness...she debated on leaving, or staying. Conflicted. And it was his fault. He complicated things for her, and now was the time they would regret it, wasn't it? He didn't know what to say. Should he ask her to stay, in Thedas, with him?...Could she stay?

     "But there is a village in Solstheim that needs me. I am their shaman, their leader. And they...are my family." she sighed. "But so is Mira. And those that follow her. They, and you...are as much apart of my world as the Skaal." she relented.

     "So what do we do with that?" he asked gently, then holding his breath in anticipation of her response.

     "Well..." she sat up a little, to look him in the eye. "Right now, we get you some food." she chuckled. "You look starved. And...I may have added to that hunger."

     He laughed a little. "Dinner with you sounds wonderful, shaman of the Skaal." he grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (since Hawke is not a romanceable character in Inquisition *sobs* I'm not as desperate to make his and Freja's romance canon, not in the slightest. But I will be trying to mesh the canon romances of the game with the pairings. Done a little bit so far, but there's much more to do, so...yeah...*slinks away*


	48. Reasons To Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few of the Warriors of the Dragonborn come to terms with what they'll leave behind if they return to Tamriel...

     Freja stepped out into the light and breathed in fresh air.

     She'd never felt so alive. The memory of Garret's touch, still lingering on her skin, the scent of his own skin. He smelled like home, for he had been in Tamriel. She could still taste the subtle after taste of sweet honeyed mead on his lips, and smell charred hearth wood. Mixed with the scent of something else...something she couldn't place the name of. She could love this man, if she wanted to.

     He kissed the back of her neck while she was busy lacing her dress, making her head fall back in the pleasure of it. Neither wanted to leave the room, but food and drink was needed, as they had worn each other thin for what seemed like hours, though...she had no idea how much time had passed. She hadn't thought of it at all. She urged him to get dressed as well before either were tempted to go at one another again, chuckling at how he groaned in protest, and once they were dressed, she shoved the large wooden door open, revealing Thedosian sunshine.

     She could get used to it. If she really wanted. She hadn't felt at home since she arrived in Thedas, but Garret Hawke slowly changed that for her. If not for the people she would be leaving behind, she would have said 'yes' already to staying, even though he had yet to ask. She knew he wanted to. But in the back of her mind, there were the Skaal, the names and faces of every father, mother, and child that lived in her village, that desperately needed her guidance after Herma-Mora claimed her father, shaman before her.

     She wondered who Garret would be leaving behind if she offered to take him with her.

     All thoughts stopped entirely when Serana made her presence known. She cleared her throat, and Freja whipped around to see the dark haired maiden in her black cloak, arms crossed, leaning against the wall to the left of the door. 

     "Figured as much." Serana muttered. "Can I borrow her for a little while?" she asked Hawke, who was glaring at her. Perhaps because it seemed evident she had been eavesdropping on them for a moment or two. Freja turned to Garret.

     "I suppose our meal will have to wait a little while longer?" she asked, giving him an apologetic look. He sighed.

     "I'll await you in the tavern." he said cordially, bowing a little, then heading down the battlement steps. Freja couldn't help but wring her hands, anxious of Serana's reason for wanting to talk. It wasn't that she didn't like Serana, for she had no reason not to. She'd met Serana in Solstheim, and found her to be somewhat agreeable of a creature. Thought not as warm, hearty, and bright-eyed as Mira had been. Still, honorable enough, and she knew her better than any other that followed Mira to Thedas. But she couldn't figure out if the dim expression Serana carried was because of catching her cavorting with Garret or not.

     All she could do was follow Serana when she gestured down the walkway, towards the north side of the keep. There were more private quarters there, and inside one of the rooms waited other people that Serana had gathered. Odd, the chosen few that Serana lured into private conversation. Herself, Aela the Huntress, and her shield-brother, Vilkas.

     "So by now you guys are wondering why you're here, aren't you?" Serana asked them morosely, plopping herself down on a desk as Freja sat down next to Aela on the bed, opposite Vilkas, who crowded in a small chair, the bulk of his frame too much for the spindly wood. Not a chair meant to hold a native of Skyrim, obviously. "Please don't break that chair, Vilkas. It's Cullen's." she said dryly.

     He hastily got up, and instead stood with arms crossed, waiting expectantly for answers, just like Freja.

     "So, why are we here?" Freja asked the woman, wanting to stay on topic. "I notice there are only Tamrielans present. A private matter not for Thedosian ears. But where are Delphine and Esbern?...And Mira...I heard she has returned."

     Serana sighed. "She took Ulfric back to Skyrim. She plans on returning after the moot, I assume. Bryn and Karliah stayed behind in Riften."

     "So it's true. She's found a way." Freja mused, and Serana nodded. "So, what about the Blades?"

     "The Blades have no reason to stay here...we do." Aela answered. The look on her face was one of fear mixed with sadness. So odd to see on an otherwise fearless woman.

     "I don't understand." Freja looked at the three of them, eyes finally resting back on Serana. She bunched her hands up in the fold of her dress, trying to mask her nervousness.

     "All of us, in this room, will have something...or should I say... _someone_...we'll be leaving behind when we go home." Serana relented. She couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice.

     It dawned on Freja then. The realization of her words and their meaning. She spent so much time with the Inquisition's Commander. Vilkas had been seen drinking, talking, and laughing with the shield maiden named Cassandra, the Seeker of Truth, as she was called, the woman he so fiercely embraced when he found she still lived. And Aela...Aela had disappeared into the wild with Blackwall on a few occasions, a fact that didn't go unnoticed. And as for Freja...she had found a fondness for a man named Garret Hawke, a mage, from a place named Lothering, so he had told her. She hadn't forgotten. Not a single word they shared.

     "I..I just..." Serana stammered, wrought with emotion. "I didn't know what to do. And I needed to know I'm not the only one. I needed to know...if I'm not the only one who doesn't want to go back."

     She broke a little. Just a touch. It must have been so strange for her to feel such tugs at her heart strings. She had admitted once that she had not always been human, though it was a secret well kept, not necessary to divulge, as she was certainly human when they met, and not the scourge of undead she claimed to have been before she met Mira. So it must've weighed heavily on her, to be cold and alone for so long, then finally feel a fire, only to have it ripped away again. Freja could see it in her eyes. Lady Mara blessed Serana with love for Cullen. And the Gods were threatening to tear him from her arms.

     Freja prayed to the All-Maker for her. The shaman of the Skaal had already made up her mind, until she saw the hurt in Serana's eyes. She silently vowed that she would share a meal with Garret, talk and laugh the night away, if she could, for as long as she could, and when the time came, she would say her farewell and return to her people. For it had to be done. But now, in that moment, she said a prayer to the All-Maker for herself as well.

     "I have to go back." Aela stated, bowing her head in shame, not wanting to look at any of them. "I still carry the beast blood within me. My only cure for it is in Skyrim. In Glenmoril coven."

     "Beast blood?" Freja turned to her. "You meant to say..."

     "A child of Hircine still." said Vilkas. "Half the Companions were once, all of the Circle, myself included, until Mira helped us free ourselves from it. Except for Aela. She refused."

     "I have trouble controlling it here. Wish I would've taken the cure now." Aela scoffed bitterly. Instinctively she scooted away from Freja, who still sat next to her on the bed, until Freja reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in a consoling manner. She slew werewolves in Solstheim. She knew better than to fear one now. Even if it was Aela.

     "You want to cure yourself because of Blackwall." she guessed, and Aela nodded. Then the wolf ran a hand through her amber locks.

     "But I don't want to leave in search for the cure if it means I wont return." she admitted, sighing heavily. "There would be no point then. But there is something here I want more than the glory of Hircine's pack."

     "Before I knew there was a chance we would return, I thought of asking Lady Cassandra to marry me." Vilkas piped up, raising a brow as he stared at the floor. "Awfully stupid, though, when I don't understand a damned thing about that woman's religion." he snorted. It made Aela smile a little.

     Freja made eye contact with Serana, hoping she could see the pity she felt.

     "We should speak to Mira when she returns. I think she would know the right thing to do." Freja suggested.

     "Wait a minute." Serana shook her head in disbelief. "Aren't _you_ the one who's supposed to be a shaman? Since when did _Mira_ become all-knowing?" She got a little angry then. "Haven't _we_ been the ones who've had _her_ back? Helped to get her out of messes she got _herself_ in?" She stood up and glanced back and forth between Aela and Vilkas. "Without the two of you, she never would've defeated the Silver Hand and brought Kodlak Whitemane's soul to rest. Without Brynjolf and Karliah, she never would have been able to kill Mercer Frey and avenge Karliah's lover's death. Without you and Neloth," she looked right at Freja, "she never would've been able to reach Apocrypha to slay Miraak! I would know, because _I was there_! Without your father _laying down his life for her_ , it wouldn't have happened, and your people would _still_ be enslaved by Miraak to this day! Without the Blades? Guess who would've gotten eaten by Alduin?!"

     The yellow eyed vixen lashed like an angry knife with her words, laboring through the secrets they had lamented to one another when searching for Mira, shared over dried bread and cold mead. Fighting through unspoken pain with such hateful words. Freja was most certain it had nothing to do with Mira personally, but at the moment, her anguish was directed at the Dragonborn. She had no one else to blame for any of it. It was Mira's fate, after all, that led them all here.

     "Here we've been, scrambling to save her ass because...why? Because she's the damned Dragonborn...that's why. Because _she_ was able to kill Miraak, _she_ was able to free Kodlak, _she_ was able to avenge Gallus... _she_ was able to defeat Alduin..." Serana's anger subsided, her tone becoming quieter and quieter, with every nuance, until she slumped back on the desk behind her in defeat. She looked for a moment as if she would cry. She lay her head in her hand. "I hunted vampires with the Dawnguard slayers. I went traipsing after Mira in the first place because I was looking for Auriel's bow. Cassandra told me that Karliah would see it safely to Fort Dawnguard. I trust her with it. I know the worth of the Nightingale's word. I've done all I can. My...my mission's complete. And I don't have anything to go back to. A family? No. They tried to enact the Tyranny of the Sun, send the world in darkness so a horde of bloodsuckers could reek havoc on Tamriel, until Mira... _killed them_." she snorted in disgust. "A mother who denounced me the second I cured my vampirism and took up with those that hunted our kind...I've spent all this time, ever since I woke up, chasing after Mira, for one reason or another, and...I just want something of my own...I don't want..." Serana searched for words she could not find, sighing haplessly.

     "You no longer want to be a 'Warrior of the Dragonborn'." Freja said quietly, making Serana look up, and nod in slight agreement. Those had been Serana's own words. What she thought to call them, the brave few who ventured through Parthanaax's portal to this new land. This much Freja had guessed of Serana, but her next words completely baffled the shaman.

     "I grew up without a father. At least, not a real one, anyway. I don't want my child growing up in Tamriel without one either." she hugged herself with her arms, and Freja could feel the color leave her face. Was...was she...?

     Both Aela and Vilkas had been stoically silent until then. Neither moving, or even breathing it seemed, patiently waiting for the storm of Serana's emotions to pass. But both seemed to be at full attention now, after Serana spoke. Vilkas shifted in his stance a little, and Aela rose to her feet. She was a wolf...if Serana was...and if it had been long enough...Aela could hear it, couldn't she?

     Slowly the woman approached, and Serana didn't move, her face buried in her hands. Aela knelt before her, stilling her movement, ceasing all sound. The long moment drew itself out and across, and it seemed the air had left the room, the stillness rushing over them in waves. Freja even held her breath as she waited. Trying to still the way her heart pounded in her ears. Mostly so that the sensitive ears of the wolf could hear...She waited...

     "Two heartbeats." Aela whispered. "It's only just begun to beat. I can tell by the rhythm. But it's there."

     Serana let out a gasp from behind her hand, or was it a sigh? Or tears? Freja didn't know. But if the wolf could hear it...if she was absolutely certain...Serana was with child.

     There would be no escaping the conversation with Mira now. She was the only one with the power to travel to and fro from Thedas to Tamriel. And be it as it may, regardless of Serana's anguish, turned embarrassment, Mira was the Dragonborn, and needed to know. As well as above all else, she was the Inquisitor of Thedas. As long as they were in Thedas, they were under the duress of the Dragonborn still.

     More so, Cullen needed to know.

     "Wait 'til word gets out about this one." Vilkas said with a chuckle. "Cullen won't live long enough to see it born. The others will drink him to death first." he grinned a naughty grin. "I plan on being the first to buy him a round."

     Freja let out the breath she'd been holding in.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Since I gave no specific indication before as to just how long Mira, Cass, and Hawke had been gone, this chapter pretty much tells it. Now...the question is why, why were they gone so long?...Was it really the Fade?...Or some other magic at work? Could it have anything to do with this strange source of Magika now in Thedas?...Either way, prepare for fluff and baby drama!!)


	49. The Children Of Nocturnal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Agents of Nocturnal are scattered...  
> But Karliah may find new purpose, Brynjolf might finally _find ___his purpose...and Mira remembers her childhood in Riften...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Beware, a lengthy chapter.)

     "No." Karliah said sternly, to the Redguard in front of her.

     "No?" Isran repeated.

     "No." she said again, this time, narrowing her eyes behind the dark hood that hid her features well in the dim light. Isran smirked.

     "Are you sure?" he pressed, making Karliah rip her hood from her head in anger, strands of dark brown hair flying madly about. She glared at him.

     "Look into my eyes and tell me if you think I'm sure!" she scathed.

     She had made it to Fort Dawnguard. In one piece, of course, but not before kicking in the teeth of some bandits that were huddled beneath the bridge on the road there. Hiding, waiting for anyone who happened by, who was weak enough to fall for their little trap. None of them expected a Nightingale with a mean right hook. And now she was there, in the fortress belonging to a band of vampire slayers, whom only let her pass after performing some sort of test to prove she wasn't undead. 

     It was harmless, mostly consisted of shining the light of the sun upon her through the gaping hole in the roof of the main vestibule, but degrading in the way they hogtied her before doing it. But, it also proved that Isran wasn't a vampire either, as he stood under the golden light same as her. And now he sat on the table in the dining hall, Auriel's bow resting beside him, warm firelight making his eyes glimmer with wicked humor as if he really were undead, and not merely a native of Hammerfell in rusted armor with a shining bald head. And he offered her to join his ranks. Saying he needed someone skilled like her.

     She flat out told him 'no'.

     "I'm not an Agent of Auriel, Isran." she pressed, then she looked down at her Thieves Guild garment, and back up at him. "Do I _look_ like a vampire hunter to you?" she asked him, raising a brow. He chuckled.

     "Let me guess..." he drew out slowly, "You're thinking you're the _last_ person that would be one, correct? Dunmer...your kind worship Daedra. Azura the most, if I've not mistaken. So you're thinking that the _last_ thing you plan to do is...'stand up against evil along side the holiest of Aedra'?" he snorted, his words laid thick with sarcasm and cynicism. "You're not the first to think you didn't belong here. In fact, get a load of this." he shifted in his position, speaking with a low and dry tone. "The last person you'd ever expect to hunt vampires...is a _fellow vampire_ , dark elf. And we had that. Matter of fact, _she_ was the one I sent after this thing." he gestured to Auriel's bow. "But she never came back. You did." he sighed. Looking as though he hated to admit what he was about to say. "Maybe it's a sign."

    "Serana's a vampire?" Karliah piped up in interest. That would explain a lot about her.

     "She was. She left and came back cured, and proved she didn't need undead powers to be one of the best damned hunters I've ever seen. But when I met her, she _was_ one. One who offered to _help_ us, believe it or not. She fought next to us when we took castle Volkihar, home to one of the fiercest covens I've seen in years...her own family."

     Karliah gaped in disbelief.

     "I...what does that have to do with me?" she asked him, diverting conversation about Serana's yellow eyes, or about how she was 'older than she looked', crafty, knew more than she should, knew Karliah was a Nightingale, or why Karliah had been too ignorant to notice before.

     "I'm just saying give it a chance. I wouldn't have said this before but...I think you might be just who we need, and I know a way to find out." He stood up, picking up the bow. "Come on." he said.

     "I think you're wasting your time." Karliah muttered, but yet...she followed him through the hall anyway, curiosity getting the better of her.

     "I might be." he chuckled heartily, his voice echoing through the fortress's core. "But I might not be."

     He turned to face her and held out the bow. "Shoot it."

     Karliah folded her arms. "And what will _that_ prove?"

     "That I'm right." he said tersely. "The Dawnguard spent _months_ searching for this artifact with the Dragonborn, for we learned through an Elder Scroll that it was the only thing that could stop the Volkihar clan from fulfilling a prophesy that would cast a shadow on Tamriel. Pitting the world in darkness, so that vampires could roam free without fear of the sun, and inherit the world. Hell of a legacy." he grinned devilishly. "But, you see, there's a trick behind this bow. Only certain people are able to use it."

     "I've heard that much about it." Karliah huffed. "Now get to the point."

     "The point is..." he started roughly, disgruntled by Karliah's affront attitude, "that if you shoot this bow, you'll know your worth...far more than you'd ever know any other way."

     By this point, several of Isran's followers were watching from the entryways, intrigued by their conversation, looming ever near, watching with hungry eyes, like wolves descending on prey, watching her shift between her feet, as she eyed the bow held out to her. She hadn't felt this exposed since walking into the wolves' den in Jorvaskr.

     "I don't need to shoot a bow to know my value, slayer." she said tersely to Isran, and he only laughed. 

     "Afraid?...Of proving me wrong, or right?...Or are you just afraid of knowing the truth?" he glanced at a fellow hunter, nodding to him, and the large red haired Nord approached with an arrow held out to them. An elven arrow, clearly, though...it wasn't a normal one. It was white, glistening, like the bow itself. "This is Gunmar, by the way." Isran said casually, gesturing to the Nord. "An expert smith. He can craft the straightest arrows you'd ever see in your life." he chuckled. "But this one he didn't make...This one is rare, a Sunhallowed arrow, hard to find, and was made specifically to pair with this bow. It has an interesting effect."

     Karliah sighed. She wasn't going to get out of this one, was she? No, it wasn't a matter of faith. It wasn't a matter of having anything better to do. It was...well, she didn't know what it was, actually. But something about that bow gave her an interesting feeling at the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was because it was wielded by Aedric servants, and she happened to be an Agent of a Daedra? And for that reason, she could very well burst into flame if she used the bow? No. That was silly. Otherwise Mira would've shared that fate...No, she knew what it was. Isran was right. For once in her life, Karliah doubted herself, and...it wasn't about proving him wrong, but...was if he was? Mira Ironhide, the damned Dragonborn wielded that bow and what if Karliah didn't measure up? Or worse, what if she did?

     Reluctantly, she held out her hand, and Isran placed the bow in it. She took the arrow and knocked it in place, inhaling as she drew back the bow, aiming for the stuffed target at the far end of the hall. The string didn't make a sound, in fact, rather than creaking it seemed to sing. She exhaled, watching as the arrow sailed to the target in clarity, making a perfect bull's-eye, which was expected of one such as herself. But the part she didn't expect was the explosion of light that filled the room, crackling like fire. It was no normal burst from a bow enchanted with fire magic. No, it was the very power of the sun itself, just like legend.

     Karliah turned, wide-eyed, to Isran.

     "How do I get more of these arrows?" she asked, admittedly, a little excited.

     "A place called the Forgotten Vale. I've got it marked on a map." he waved for her to follow him out of the room, while the others stared at her, gleaming with...pride, it seemed.

     Karliah had always been sure she was meant to walk in the Shadows, and that sureness had never wavered. But it seemed apparent now that she was also meant to bathe in the light...She wondered about the possibilities. Wondered of all the other things she had been wrong about. And wondered if Mira felt the fire in her soul that Karliah felt now, holding that bow in her hands. Even so, she said a small prayer to Nocturnal, to grant her luck. This time, for an entirely new reason.

* * *

     Brynjolf had drank himself into a stupor. And upon passing out and waking again from his drunkenness, he did something even more stupid. He drank more. He drank so much that he didn't know at what point he left the Flagon and wandered outside Riften, and whether or not anyone had even tried to stop him. Probably not. Once before, Delvin and Vex learned the hard way what happened when someone got between Bryn and his bottle of Blackbriar mead. Delvin ended up with a busted lip, and Vex ended up in the cistern's murky water. It took Dirge to finally get Bryn under control, as he was the only one in the Flagon bigger than him, big enough to toss him into the water next to Vex. That sobered him up real quick.

     But now, this time around, he wasn't sobering up in sewer water. He was...in a temple. And if he wasn't mistaken...it was Nocturnal's temple. He had found his way there, somehow, without being eaten by something lurking around in the woods on the edge of Riften hold, truly a miracle, he wagered. And there he was, sitting on the central pier at Nocturnal's alter in Nightingale hall.

     He begrudgingly got up, groaning and wincing at the way his head pounded. Even in the dimness of the hall, the light was still too much to bear, hurting his eyes. He cursed himself then, realizing the broken wine bottles smashed all around, pieces of glass floating in the water, twinkling and mocking him. He vaguely remembered the night before. It slowly came back to him.

     He wandered into the Nightingale's secret fortress of solitude, stumbling, cursing, yelling the whole way. With all the racket he made, surely the hall's location was no longer a secret, and it was a miracle that Lady Luck didn't swoop down and strangle him for his 'blasphemy'. And there he had laid in a drunken state, practically screaming at the top of his lungs, because Nocturnal wouldn't speak to him, cursing, and eventually crying, playing over and over again in his mind the hurt look in Mira's eyes when he stormed out of her home. Trading every promise made to her, of a home and a family, of love, for a cheap drink at the Flagon. He felt like he betrayed her for that. But he did it because he felt like she betrayed him as well.

     Maybe it was the damned Fade, that wretched demon realm, making him see so many horrible things. Sure, a nightmare demon, making them see their own worst fears. He could live with the fact that it was only a mirage, only the work of a devil playing tricks on his mind. But he couldn't live with what it made him see. His own worst fear. The reality of it hit him harder than a jail cell door slamming shut in his face. His worst fear, his only fear, Mira's white, lifeless eyes in death.

     And then seeing that cursed magic eating away at her. The Anchor. Killing her, and that fear washing over him that it would really happen. Nothing could kill the Dragonborn, he always believed. Nothing could fell a dragon save for another dragon. With Alduin defeated, there was nothing that could ever tear Mira down...or so he had thought. And the fear gripping him once again when he woke up from being hit with something to find Mira taken from her bed, gone in the night, stolen away from him by that devil cat. And when she returned with him, revealing that they knew one another somehow, only she couldn't remember how...he accused her of lying to him. He cursed himself for that. He never believed in a thousand generations that woman would ever lie to him. Stupidity on his part.

     Or was it?...How well did he really know his Dragonborn love?

     He didn't have time to dwell on it further, for the temple rumbled under his feet. Beneath the glowing waters below him, something stirred. Was it Nocturnal? Surely not. The last thing he needed at the moment was to hear it from that blasted Daedric Prince in her gloomy realm. He scrambled to his feet as best he could, brushing bits of dirt from his Guild armor, running a hand through his tangled hair. Prettying himself up for the Mistress, was he? Might as well. No sense in dying looking like a soggy sabrecat. Wait...could Daedra actually kill their unwilling servants?

     It wasn't Nocturnal that appeared, but a different spectral form. Slowly making it's way up the isle to the pier where he stood, headed right for him. He stepped back instinctively, shaking a little when he realized how close to the edge he was, hearing a pebble fall to the water behind him.

     _"Are you finished desecrating the Lady's hall, Bryn?"_ asked a familiar voice. No...it couldn't be.

     "Gallus!" he exclaimed, the air leaving his lungs. "It...It can't be!"

     _"It is, old friend. And it's been a very long time. You're a lot taller than I remember you."_ his voice was shrouded by shadows, though echoing through the hall, and into Bryn's own mind...so otherworldly to him, but it was indeed Gallus' voice he heard.

     "How can you be here?" Brynjolf heard himself ask, feeling the blood leave his face, sure that he was paler than he'd ever been. No reason to fear Gallus. Of all people, he was probably one of the few that Brynjolf would ever truly be able to trust. But for him to be there, however ethereal the form...there, in the flesh, in a manner of speaking.

     _"With the Key restored within the Twilight Sepulcher's walls, Nocturnal's ties are stronger. But...I am still weak, this far from the Sepulcher. I have little time to speak_." Gallus' sounded disappointed maybe, apologetic, perhaps? Mournful...that was the proper word.

     "What are you doing here?" Bryn asked, wasting no time with it.

     _"I've come to give you answers. You wish to speak to the Lady of Shadows, but she will not answer you. You are her Agent by name alone, friend. So I came in her stead."_ Gallus was starting to fade. _"...Go to the Sepulcher, Brynjolf. Take the path no longer travelled, and you shall have answers, I promise."_

     With those words, Gallus disappeared. Bryn was just about to speak, demanding more from him, any small explanation, but he lost his chance. He simply sighed. He was never one for this religious junk. He always thought it was nothing more than hogwash, children's tales. But...there he was, in Nightingale Hall, having seen a spectral of Nocturnal once before...and now, Gallus himself...He mustered up whatever courage he had. Whatever else he thought to do that day, it would have to wait. If it meant seeing Gallus once more...

     "To the Twilight Sepulcher it is then." he muttered to himself, then strode out of the eerie cistern.

* * *

     Mira and Ulfric skirted the lake, and found their way to Riften Stables. The stable hand that worked there was a good lad. Shadr, whom Mira had helped once, convincing a fellow Guild member, Sapphire, to clear his debt with her. By threatening to tell Brynjolf she was skimming profits from the Guild, and Sapphire never let her forget it, even after she became Master. Shadr had never forgotten Mira either, especially once he learned that the very same ragtag Nord in leather armor that helped him was the Dragonborn herself. Forever grateful that one such as herself was noble enough to assist a lowly creature such as him. It was poetic, really.

     He was happy enough to lend Ulfric a horse, a sturdy chestnut with good haunches, good enough to carry Ulfric's large hind, and once she saw him onto the horse, she bid him farewell. He was to return to Windhelm, before anything else, touch base with his people, then travel to High Hrothgar, for the Moot. The Greybeards would hold to their ways of peace, even if Ulfric didn't, and if the meeting went the way she thought it would, only they, herself and the Masters of the Voice, would be capable enough to ensure no one fought amongst one another. She would act as the speaker, the mediator, and though she was loyal to Ulfric, she promised herself she would not intervene. It was only right. It was among the Jarls, they had the right to vote and no one else. And if the Emperor's legion, or the Thalmor themselves, decided to interfere, there was no safer place for Ulfric to be.

     When he asked Mira why she did not go with him right away to Windhelm, or to High Hrothgar, she told him she had business to attend to. When he grumbled about using the Wandering Shout to get them there quicker, she simply stated it wasn't where she needed to be. He grumbled more, but nodded in farewell, and rode off to the north, headed for his city. As for Mira, she strode up to the gates of Riften. For Riften, at that moment, was where she needed to be. Of that she was certain.

     The guards didn't recognize her at first, hiding under her hood, and even tried to coax her into paying the 'visitor's tax'. She laughed and pulled back her hood, imagining their faces turning white behind their helmets as they had tried to stiff the Dragonborn, and Thane of Riften.

     "The...the Dragonborn!" one exclaimed.

     "My Thane!" said the other.

     "Aye, that I am, lads." she chuckled. They let her through the gate, promising a free round of drinks at the Bee and Barb in apology. She only shook her head and laughed at them still. What a welcome home, she thought to herself.

     It was no secret that the Thane of Riften was also the Master of Thieves, and with all the gold she brought into the city, no one argued with it, and so no one bat an eyelash at her armor. But the citizens were amazed that the Dragonborn walked through the gates and into the Riften marketplace. Even Mjoll the Lioness, the honorable and courageous lass that she was, bent on stamping out the Guild months ago, was bright eyed and bushy tailed at Mira's return. People left their posts in the market to gawk at her.

     "Is it true?" Modesi asked, the sly Saxhleel that sold fine jewelry. "Did you kill that black serpent in the sky?"

     She nodded her head, glancing around at the faces she saw.

     "It is true. Alduin is vanquished." she said proudly. People cheered at that notion.

     Though she had been gone for many months, and had so much to catch up on, so many familiar faces to see, and voices to hear...voices she had longed to hear since she was pulled out of a rift by a Seeker of Truth...she had to bid them farewell. There was somewhere she needed to be, wasn't there? And it was in Riften somewhere. She was most certain it was waiting at the bottom boardwalk, beyond the entrance to the Ratway, where she found herself leaping over the bannister to land catlike on the ramp below, striding through the door, smelling the familiar smell of dust and dampness, mead, and even the faint smell of sweetrolls somewhere in the distance.

     Once beyond the door and completely alone, she let out a sigh. Slumping against the wall for a moment. This was _her_ city, yet...Something was different about it all. It no longer felt the way it used to. It felt foreign. Felt as if there was something missing. She was so caught up in the strangeness of the feel that it didn't even bother her that Honor Hall was up above, nearby, like it used to. 

     ...No matter how much time had passed, she'd never gotten over the feeling of bursting through the door in the middle of the night, Grelod's ugly voice screaming after her, the guards with their torches, yelling, "Stop, girl!", but they couldn't stop her from leaping from the bannister, catlike as always, down to the Ratway entrance. Couldn't stop her from tearing past the vagabonds that camped out in the sewers, across the wooden drawbridge, and down into the cistern. Down to the Ragged Flagon where she bumped into an Imperial, strapped in leather armor riddled with pockets, pockets that jingled with gold.

     "What's a little cat like you doing in the Flagon?" he asked with a smile, picking her up though she protested.

     "I'm not a cat, you dolt!" she spat, spitting her hair out of her mouth when it flew in.

     "Well, you don't look like a girl, either." he said snidely, then he held her up, examining her ratty appearance. "Maybe you're a dragon." he laughed. "What do you think, Mercer? Could she be a dragon?" he looked back at the young man, no older than fifteen, perhaps.

     "Pfft." he replied, uninterested. The Imperial turned back to the small Nordic child he held in his arms.

     "What are you running from, little dragon?" he asked.

     "I'm not running from anything." she smarted. "I'm a Nord. Nords run _to_ things, not _away_ from things." she folded her arms defiantly. By this point, the Imperial was carrying her across the way, toward the parade of tables, scattered around the bar, setting her up on top of it and handing her a sweetroll. She groaned when she looked at it, detested it. The last time she held that sticky bread in her hands, she got her face sliced open.

     "Alright, then where are you running to?" he asked with laughter in his eyes.

     She sighed. "I don't know...Okay, fine, I'm running away from Honor Hall." she admitted.

     "See? You're not a Nord after all." he joked. "You're a dragon." he nudged her shoulder. "Running away from Honor Hall? Bet that hag's got something to do with it. You know, one day, someone's going to give that woman her due. Nothing comes without a price, you know." he winked.

     It was some time later in the night that the Imperial walked out of the southern gate, leaving Riften, carrying a large sack. In the sack was a Nordic child, an orphan, whom he instructed to keep quiet. She ended up falling asleep somewhere along the border. When she woke up, she was safely over the border, and the Imperial was placing her in the back of a wagon.

     "Shh." he said. "This wagon will take you to Cyrodiil." he assured. "You'll be safe there. You'll never see that old hag, Grelod, again." he winked, before pulling over his hood. The Nordic child, Mira, blinked, and he was gone. As if he disappeared into thin air, without a trace...

     Mira Ironhide had never forgotten that, the memory welling back up within her every time she passed Honor Hall. She was so thankful most days to have a back entrance to the Guild, one that didn't mean passing by that wretched orphanage. Funny, how Grelod didn't even remember her when she finally went inside, and found the old, wrinkled woman screaming at children, then sauntering to her office, slumping down at her desk. She died in that chair, without ever knowing the real reason why.

     As she walked through the cistern, she thought of it again, thought of the night she left Skyrim in her youth. Seeing the faces of her Guildmates, and seeing that how, even after all those years, the place hadn't changed a bit...She remembered being set in the wagon, Kha'tri's wagon, she would soon discover, hugging and thanking the Imperial that helped her escape that wretched snow capped country.

     The Imperial named Gallus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (More Skyrim quests made personal to the main character!...Boy, I'm on a roll, aren't I?...Shall we see what's in store for the children of Nocturnal?)


	50. The Temple And The Time Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery at the Temple of Sacred Ashes leads to more questions than answers...

    The road to the Valley of Sacred Ashes was a hard one. Cold, snow still covered the ground, even at this time of year, high up in the Frostbacks. Sister Leliana traveled with the red eyed, dark skinned elf, Neloth, and a small scouting party, to all that remained of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Leliana never thought in a hundred years that she would go back there this soon, but indeed she did. She wasn't going to let Neloth go alone, to seek a mysterious source of power, especially not when he had a newfound arcane ability at present. Admittedly, she didn't completely trust him. But his pompous attitude was enough to drive her bonkers.

     His magic was useful, however, as flames that emanated from his hand made it all the easier to light a campfire partway through the journey. He was very skilled. It was a marvel, really, to see a mage that didn't require a staff to harness magic. And when they were set upon by a bear, he possessed healing magic that closed the wounds of the injured scouts, with no potions, and no healers necessary. And the magic seemed to sing. Unlike the aura of Fade magic...this magic seemed to...glow, she supposed, in an entirely new manner, with an otherworldliness Leliana had never witnessed before. How the golden tendrils swirled about his hand, the sound of chimes that accompanied it when he touched it to the wounds of others. She wondered what it must've felt like to them. Neloth admitted he only did it out of necessity, of course, as he couldn't very well leave them to die, and leave himself out numbered should they happen upon more enemies. Leliana rolled her eyes at that.

     At the Temple...or what was left of it...it became obvious that there was something there that wasn't before. It had grown larger, Neloth said, and this strange veil of magical power was now where the Breach had been. Coincidence?...Leliana couldn't be sure. But as her scouts took watch on the battlements above, she stood right there next to Neloth as he looked it over. It was rather beautiful. It reminded her of the time, standing there in the Chantry at Haven, that she first witnessed up close the form of Mira's power. A Shout, she called it, that made her a spectral form.

     "What is it?" she found herself asking when they neared it, her bow ever at the ready, just in case something decided to pop out of it.

     "Hmm." She saw Neloth stroke his facial hair, arms tucked around his chest, eyes glittering at the spectacle. "I'm not sure...but it rather resembles a Time Wound, in truth." he mused.

     "What's a Time Wound?" she asked him. "Some sort of portal?"

     "No." he replied, as nasily as ever. "It's the scar left behind when time is disrupted. Altered, in any way, whether through a Dragon Break, or otherwise, though...No one actually believes Breaks are possible, you know."

     "You've lost me." she leaned her head, her curiosity on full display.

     He groaned. "A Break, essentially, is the alteration, or otherwise absence of time, if you will. It's called a Dragon Break after Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. The Nords believe that when Time stops, reverses, or pushes forward, it is all at the whim of their Dragon God, and when Time is altered, they believe it's because the Dragon broke, or more simply put, just stopped doing his job." he crossed his arms, glancing over at her, probably wondering if she was yet to understand the meaning behind his words. "Nobody ever remembers the occurrence, though, so it's hard to say if the Dragon ever broke at all. Thus the disbelief."

     "This...Dragon God...Mira mentioned him once. Mentioned a dragon named Alduin, and this...Akatosh you speak of." Leliana was completely interested now, her attention flitting from Neloth to the 'time wound', and back to him.

     "Yes...it is believed that the first time the Time God broke, he splintered off into pieces, creating other Time Gods, some of which took the form of dragons, immortal beings, outside the confines of time, and age. Alduin was the first dragon, supposedly, and was cast forward in time by an artifact called an Elder Scroll. That occurrence scarred the Throat of the World, the mountain over Skyrim, and right there where it occurred, there is a Time Wound... _When_ will people learn not to tamper with ancient magic without proper research and study?" his question rolled off his tongue with sarcasm. A curious thing to say, really. She didn't know if it was meant earnestly or not. He had spoken before of an entire race disappearing in his realm, from doing just that. She guessed he meant it earnestly then.

     "If indeed, it is a Time Wound, it's nothing more than a veil, a shadow, without the Elder Scroll that caused it...How, by Azura, an Elder Scroll got here though..." his voice trailed off, ending as nothing more than muttering as he examined the magic.

     Absentmindedly, Leliana extended her hand towards the thing thought to be a 'time wound', curious of it, wondering if she would feel anything if she touched it. Her actions barely registering in her conscious mind.

     "No, no! Don't touch it!" he scathed as he grabbed her hand, pulling it away from the wave, curtain, she supposed, of magic in front of her. "It may not be a Time Wound. You don't know what it could do. It could very well _kill you_ , you know."

     "Careful, Neloth." she chuckled. "Don't want anyone to see you showing concern for the welfare of others, now do we?" she raised a brow at him and watch him clear his throat, holding his head high in a defiant manner.

     "More to do with the fact that I'd rather not suffer the _wrath_ of your Dragonborn Inquisitor, should she return and learn that I killed her Spymaster by accident." he corrected, but there was a small smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips.

     Leliana sighed. "So, this...'time wound', it's the source of Magika in Thedas?"

     "It appears to be...and raises a lot of questions, more questions than answers, I'm afraid. And without my instruments to study it...And the absence of an Elder Scroll...unless." he whipped sharply around to face her, seeming to have an epiphany. "Are there any artifacts in Thedas that disrupt time?" he asked, almost demanding, rather.

     Leliana only blinked at first. How much should she actually tell him, she wondered?...Surely he could be trusted with the information learned in Redcliffe, if he truly was an ally of Mira's. And what choice did she have but to tell him, for he seemed to be the only one with any knowledge of this curious wave of magic in front of them.

     "There...was." she stated hesitantly. "But I was told the amulet was destroyed."

     "A time amulet, destroyed?" Neloth rubbed his goatee again. "Highly unlikely. That type of magic, albeit temporarily contained, cannot be destroyed...merely stored _elsewhere_...no pun intended."...Whatever joke that was supposed to be, she didn't get it. But she didn't enjoy hearing what he had to say. It didn't bode well.

     Before either of them could continue further in conversation, there was a flash, blinding white light, and Leliana only barely escaped the flex in power as the 'time wound' grew larger. The only reason she made it out of the way was perhaps because Neloth had guessed that would happen, and pulled her out of the way, the blast knocking them off their feet. Her ears rang for a moment, and she was temporarily blinded, but when she could see again, she immediately looked up to see if her scouts were unscathed. They were, though startled, but they had been far enough away from the blast that they were only slightly disoriented from it. There they stood, bows in hand, staring in wonder at the magical curtain, then down and Leliana and Neloth who stood up and brushed themselves off.

     "What happened?" she asked him, though she knew the answer.

     "It's the convergence." he replied. "This thing will continue to grow until it's met with an equal and opposite force."

     "And that would be?" she looked at him expectantly, as he turned to face her, an expression that bordered on horror, confusion, and probably frustration, judging by his next answer.

     "I...I don't know." he admitted. As much as she wanted to laugh about him not being as all-knowing as he would've hoped...she really wished he did know it all, right now.

     There was another sound to distract them. At that moment, somewhere over the mountain, there was a rumble, though no storm could been seen in the sky. An earthquake, of some kind, and coming from the direction of Skyhold, it seemed. That couldn't be good. As she, Neloth, and the others prepared to leave the Temple ruins, she silently prayed to the Maker that Skyhold did not share the same fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (FWI: the shockwave heard and felt is the point in time that Mira returned to Thedas using the Wandering shout, for any who are wondering...so don't freak out lol)  
> (The Wandering shout IS in fact non-canon, does not actually exist in the game, but it's an interesting concept, so let me take a moment to explain the 'science' behind it, if you will. Tinvaak [meaning 'speech'], other wise known as Dragon Tongue, or Dovahzul, until Thuum.org changed things around in their language page, is essentially no different than any other language, to those that do not possess the power of the Thu'um. But to dragons, Words of Power, such as 'yol' [meaning 'fire'] can be used to actually make fire. It's natural to dragons, whereas a long process to learn for mortals. Based on Parthanaax's teaching about meditating on the words, evident by Nord Heroes creating Dragonrend, Tinvaak can become Words of Power to those who master the technique. So for Mira, who is Dragonborn, naturally akin to the Thu'um, what would normally be a 'normal phrase' meaning 'wander beyond' and nothing more, can be harnessed as a Thu'um, once Odahviing 'gifted her with the knowledge', rather the exact same way the Greybeards, or Parthanaax, would be able to do. There is no known limit to a dragon's Words of Power evident in the game, or in any lore, and supposedly, dragons have many more Word of Power than what the PC is able to master in-game [see Alduin's Meteor Shout, for reference]. I am in full belief it is possible, lore-wise, for Mira to be able to take any part of the Dragon Tongue and form it into a Thu'um, now, the question is...will she learn that about herself?)


End file.
